Mythopoeia, Visions, Transcendence, and the Journey of the Rhetorical Refugee

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Tracing Sehnsucht to Place: Mythopoeia, Visions, Transcendence, and the Journey of the Rhetorical Refugee

G. Brandon Knight University of Southern Mississippi

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This Dissertation is brought to you for free and open access by The Aquila Digital Community. It has been accepted for inclusion in Dissertations by an authorized administrator of The Aquila Digital Community. For more information, please contact [email protected]. TRACING SEHNSUCHT TO PLACE: MYTHOPOEIA, VISIONS, TRANSCENDENCE, AND THE JOURNEY OF THE RHETORICAL REFUGEE

G. Brandon Knight

A Dissertation Submitted to the Graduate School, the College of Arts and Sciences and the School of Communication at The University of Southern Mississippi in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy

Approved by:

Dr. Wendy Atkins-Sayre, Committee Chair Dr. Casey Maugh-Funderburk Dr. John Meyer Dr. Laura Stengrim Dr. Paul Strait

______Dr. Wendy Atkins-Sayre Dr. Casey Maugh- Dr. Karen S. Coats Committee Chair Funderburk Dean of the Graduate School Director of School

May 2019

G. Brandon Knight

2019

Published by the Graduate School

ABSTRACT

This dissertation seeks to explicate a rhetorical conceptualization from C. S.

Lewis’s notion of longing, or sehnsucht, in hopes of extending its employment to two other contemporary contexts—Christian Hedonism and American Humanism. To do so, I utilize the method of rhetorical criticism to analyze Lewis’s most famous sermon entitled

The Weight of Glory. Following this paradigm chapter, I then compare uses of longing within the contemporary evangelical philosophy called Christian Hedonism initiated during the eighties through the seminal text entitled Desiring God: Meditations of a

Christian Hedonist. In doing so, I uncover distinct aspects of longing within a metaphysical framework of rhetorical transcendence. Through the lens of Betz’s (1985)

Theology of Hope, the sacred substance of joy emerged as a form of immanence offering sustenance to participants for their continued progression to the Christian Other. Finally,

I rhetorically analyzed the three manifestoes of the American Humanist Association

(AHA) as a means to discover uses of longing within a philosophical framework totally absent of supernaturalism. Distinctively, humanists, like Christian hedonists, utilize longing in relation to imagining a futuristic world community. Through this rhetorical vision, the humanistic discourse of the manifestoes is shown to be a form of religious rhetoric in that it reveals the world as already in transition through constitutive rhetoric.

The ultimate finding of this dissertation demonstrates that the employment of longing as a rhetorical motive in these three scenarios all inherently aim for a place, or topos, thus innovating past perceptions of rhetorical transcendence.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to acknowledge the help and guidance of Dr. Wendy Atkins-Sayre. It was you who first taught me about rhetoric in my undergraduate days, ultimately leading me to this point. Additionally, you encouraged my scholarly work by requesting that I pursue rhetorical studies in graduate work as graduation approached. Although you may not remember those classes or conversations, I can attest that it is the small things that have allowed me to get to this point. Seeds ultimately grow into trees. Thank you for your interest and persistence in my education. Your time and investment have made me a better person.

iii

DEDICATION

I dedicate this dissertation to Ashley, my wife and best friend. Who knew so many years ago that our lives would land on this path? I still remember taking you to prom and stealing your heart with my dance moves. It took a little bit of time; but God has a unique way of working things out. At this point, our whole marriage—eight years— has involved me being in academia. For you, I know this has been trying; and I am forever grateful that you have persevered alongside me. You are my greatest source of joy and ultimately the reason for my success. I love you, Ash.

To my girls, Cadence, Emery, and Eden: although you do not realize it, this dissertation is for you. As you will find, when love is involved, people often go to great lengths to show its depth. My time at school has been just that for all of you. I love you.

To my mom, you are my heart. Despite us being physically distant for quite some time, you have proven yourself to be the true communicator in the family and thus ever- present in my life. Thank you for always being there for me and our family. I love you,

BGB.

To my dad, you gave me a model to follow. You are the hardest working person I know. I hope you realize how proud it makes me to be your son. I love you, FF.

To my sister, I am often nostalgic for the days when we built forts and had adventures together. Such pain only demonstrates how much I care for you and long to have more time with you. I love you, KK.

To Christ, may my rhetoric always be pleasing to you.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

ABSTRACT ...... ii

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ...... iii

DEDICATION ...... iv

LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS ...... x

CHAPTER 1 – LONGING FOR DEPTH ...... 1

The Religious and Secular Divide ...... 5

Two Distinct Voices ...... 6

Modern-Day Echoes ...... 10

The American Humanist Association ...... 13

Christian Hedonism ...... 15

Transcendence and Fragmentation ...... 17

The Sublime in the Supernatural...... 17

The Sublime in Nature ...... 23

Rhetorical Criticism ...... 25

Chapter Layout...... 27

Contributions of the Study ...... 28

CHAPTER II – C. S. LEWIS AND THE WEIGHT OF GLORY ...... 30

An Inescapable Reality ...... 33

Lewis the Myth Maker ...... 37 v

The Demythologization of Reality...... 39

Myth Theory and Mythopoeism ...... 41

Sehnsucht and the Search for Joy ...... 43

Using Mythopoeia as a Critical Lens ...... 52

The Rhetoric of Glory ...... 55

A Logos of Pathos ...... 55

Mythopoiesis: Experience and the Christian Mythos ...... 59

Implications and Conclusion...... 64

CHAPTER III - DESIRING GOD AND CHRISTIAN HEDONISM: AWAKENING AN

IMMANENT JOY ...... 67

Rhetorical Transcendence and Religion ...... 69

Burke’s Logology and Theology ...... 71

Kantian Philosophy and Hedonism ...... 72

The Joy in Transcendence ...... 74

Betz’s Theology of Hope ...... 74

Christian Hedonism ...... 76

The End of the Twentieth Century...... 77

The Eighties ...... 78

Conservative Evangelicalism in the New Age...... 80

The Moral Dilemma ...... 84 vi

John Piper: The Desire Factory ...... 85

Christian Hedonics: Awakening the Transcendent Vision ...... 89

Joy and Delight: What-is and What-is-to-be ...... 89

Worship: Understanding the Sacred Substance of Joy ...... 92

Re-Defining the Person: Logic and Emotion ...... 92

Kantian Philosophy: A Scandal to Transcendent Joy ...... 95

Tools for Joy: Incarnation and Revelation in the Process of Transcendence ...... 97

Mystification and Perspectives of Incongruity in the Process of Transcendence ...... 100

Implications and Conclusion...... 105

CHAPTER IV – THE HUMANISTIC VISION: SCIENCE, TRANSCENDENCE, AND

HUMANISM ...... 108

The Great Depression ...... 110

A Likely Union: Unitarian Universalism and Religious Humanism ...... 113

The Nontheistic Religionists ...... 113

The Proceeding Decades ...... 116

One Collective Voice ...... 118

The Religious Nation and Humanism[s] ...... 122

En-Visioning a New World ...... 124

Secularism and Religiosity: Colliding at an Intersection ...... 125

The Priestly Voice of Science and Humanism ...... 128 vii

Constitutive Rhetoric and the Manifesto ...... 131

Rhetorical Visions and the Creation of Community ...... 134

Manifesto-ing: Sharing Visions of a New World ...... 137

The Scene: Kairotic Crisis and an Impending Future ...... 137

The Dramatis Personae ...... 140

The Antagonists: Traditional Theists ...... 140

The Protagonists: The New Rational Humanity ...... 142

The Futuristic Vision ...... 144

Implications and Conclusions ...... 147

CHAPTER V – CONCLUSION...... 151

Summary ...... 151

C. S. Lewis and The Weight of Glory: Longing for a Far-Off Country ...... 152

Christian Hedonism: The Immanent Substance of Joy ...... 154

Let There Be Humanism: The Spoken Vision ...... 156

Contributions and Implications ...... 158

The Rhetorical Refugee ...... 159

Mythos, Phantasia, and the Rhetoric of Possibility ...... 161

A Futuristic Nostalgia: “Home is Where the Heart is” ...... 163

Shifting Kairos through Telos: The Ever-Present Future ...... 166

Future Research ...... 168 viii

REFERENCES ...... 171

LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS

AHA The American Humanist Association

CHAPTER 1 – LONGING FOR DEPTH

Wilder (1976), in his Theopoetic: Theology and the Religious Imagination, set out to demonstrate the need amongst Christian participants to regain the imaginative rhetorical depth that overflowed during the early centuries of the primitive church:

“Perhaps the greatest single contribution that a new theopoetic could make—whether for the liberal churches or for the Evangelicals, both alike limited by dated stereotypes, or for the many kinds of secular mystics—would be to repossess the mystery of the cross and its glory in a way that would speak to all” (p. 12). Although this work was written by

Wilder over three decades ago, he saw an unmet communicative desire in his generation which led him to posit that “the opportunity of our time is that depth is again calling to depth” (p. 21). Nevertheless, much of the rhetorical discourse within contemporary

Christianity seems to be disenchanting, hence the formulation of a new movement called the Nones because of their refusal to affiliate with any formal religion (Lipka, 2015).

Of course, by focusing on the religious imagination, the rhetorician is forced to contend with the poetic and thus a pre-Aristotelian perspective, or a “rhetoric of belief,” which remains prevalent even today (Sullivan, 1992, p. 329). Such an endeavor would inevitably pertain to the mimetic ontology of nature underlying religious belief often created specifically through narratives within scriptural texts like the Bible in which a distant heavenly topos exists, thereby distancing itself from sole rationalism. More specifically, the rhetoric of belief calls into question the role of imagination within religious discourse in the 21st century and thus either its continued relegation or exaltation by rhetorical scholars (Kearney, 1988). A unique concept has been overlooked

in the field of religious rhetoric pertaining to Christianity called sehnsucht, or what C. S.

Lewis considered to be the inconsolable secret in his infamous sermon The Weight of

Glory of 1941. Later, he ultimately came to define this longing as Joy in his published autobiography called Surprised by Joy. Sehnsucht is defined by Menzies (2015) as “an experience of insight, something that takes place in the imagination and lies beyond description and is recalled differently from person to person” (p. 45). Kilby (1964) connects this concept to the underlying work and life of Lewis when positing that “The culmination of Sehnsucht in the rhapsodic joy of heaven is, for me at least, the strongest single element in Lewis. … and suggests to me that Lewis’s apocalyptic vision is perhaps more real than that of anyone since St. John on Patmos” (p. 187). Such a vision in the realm of religious communication denotes powerful uses of language and rhetoric to reinvigorate reality and the search for the transcendent Other.

Lewis posits a rhetorical depth of sehnsucht demonstrating for contemporary scholars the uses it could bring to bear in the field of religious communication: “A man’s physical hunger does not prove that that man will get any bread; he may die of starvation on a raft in the Atlantic. But surely a man’s hunger does prove that he comes of a race which repairs its body by eating and inhabits a world where eatable substances exist”

(para. 6). In other words, if an innate longing for religious transcendence does exist similar to that of physical hunger, then it demonstrates the possible existence of that

Other place in various manifestations like communication. However, in Lewis’s sermon he seems to be combatting a misdirection involved with this longing and the frustration that was resulting due to disbelief: “These things…are good images of what we really

desire; but if they are mistaken for the thing itself they turn into dumb idols, breaking the hearts of their worshippers” (para. 7). The same can also be said concerning the stifling of said desire resulting from modernity. Nevertheless, the purpose of this research is not to propose validation of a transcendent place, or Other, but instead to add greater focus to the rhetorical nature of sehnsucht and its uses to incite longing. Such an endeavor would further open the door for exploring current appeals to this religious experience as well as possible misappropriations of this longing today through a Lewisonian lens.

Booth (2018) argues for the importance of religious longing inherent in

Christianity when positing, “The doctrine of Christianity teaches that our present world was made for unimaginable glory, a reality that is now thoroughly broken. . . . And all of the longing and the yearning and the craving and, yes, the nostalgia, is perhaps an unutterable cry for redemption, for the place we were created to be and for the One we were created for” (para. 9). Therefore, in this conceptual framework, rhetorical transcendence will become primary. Yet, this desire for transcendence through a

Lewisonian lens can be stifled or even misplaced when directed toward the wrong telos, or posited as something other than its true form. After unfolding Lewis’s understanding and experiences of sehnsucht as the paradigmatic example of religious rhetoric, I analyze the rhetorical elements of a movement called Christian Hedonism that connects desire, joy, and pleasure to the center of faith in the Christian belief. Following this inquiry, I also analyze the American Humanist Association (AHA), which opposes belief in the supernatural and thus disengages and stifles sehnsucht’s metaphysical effects. After explicating particular engagements and employments with sehnsucht from both

perspectives, an overall theoretical conceptualization will be put forth in regards to religious communication and rhetoric.

Christian Hedonism was a term coined by John Piper in his famous work Desiring

God which was published in 1986. Whereas the notions of pleasure and desire had somehow been disconnected from religiosity in light of duty, Piper was inspired and influenced through the work of Lewis, especially in connection to sehnsucht and thus joy.

Piper (2011) contends that Christian Hedonism distinctly locates the telos of all earthly longing and pleasure toward God: “First, Christian Hedonism as I use the term does not mean God becomes a means to help us get worldly pleasures. The pleasure Christian

Hedonism seeks is the pleasure that is in God Himself” (p. 24). Other movements like

AHA, however, centralize faith in humanity, rationalism, and progress stemming not simply from the enlightenment but various thinkers throughout history. In AHAs manifesto, an account of humanism is given charging that “Humanism is a progressive philosophy of life that, without supernaturalism, affirms our ability and responsibility to lead ethical lives of personal fulfillment that aspire to the greater good of humanity”

(“Humanism and its inspiration,” para. 1). In other words, humanism stands as a major critique against religious and supernatural beliefs thus centralizing progress in ethical community and compassion for others within society.

Obviously, the unique situation of the United States with its historic smorgasbord of religions as well as its own progressive line of freethinkers has consistently been a place of tension between both the religious and the secular. Nevertheless, I must reiterate that this research is not a ploy to inflame said tension under the guise of inquiry. Rather,

my hope is to examine rhetorical uses of sehnsucht through a Lewisonian lens, demonstrating either a stoking or a stifling of said desire within both organizations and thereby adding to a greater depth of knowledge concerning the rhetorical concept and the strategies employed therein. To do so, this project will begin by employing rhetorical criticism of Lewis’s sermon The Weight of Glory followed by each organization’s discourse in an effort to ultimately build upon our theoretical knowledge of sehnsucht as a rhetorical concept. Through this research, it is possible that the lack of profundity discussed by Wilder (1963) in Christian rhetoric could be given greater gravitas by initiating sehnsucht, thereby allowing depth to call out once again to depth through a reformed and dramatic style of discourse that stokes such a transcendent longing.

The Religious and Secular Divide

Although much of the discourse heard concerning the relationship between the sacred and secular often distinguishes the two by invoking separation of Church and

State, many scholars have noted a closer relationship throughout history than that which is normally argued. Davaney (2009), for example, notes that “While there have been distinctions between the secular and the religious, there has also been a symbiotic relationship and profound entanglements between the state and religion, the public and the private and the religious and the secular” (p. 1330). One prime example is the refocusing on the individual that emerged within society due to the Protestant

Reformation that largely exists still today. However, following the Enlightenment and the rise of modernity, skepticism grew concerning the need for a creator and was only emboldened by Darwin’s publication On the Origin of Species in 1859. Guinness (2015)

maintains that the authoritarianism and oppression of the Catholic Church before and during the reformation is also largely to blame for the growing disdain toward religiosity as a whole: “People who did not agree with Catholic orthodoxy did not say what they thought. Often they said the opposite of what they thought, and readers learned to read with an early version of the ‘hermeneutics of suspicion’” (p. 62). However, following this period, distinctions grew between pietism, a religious movement focusing on individual spirituality, and rationalism in the sense that faith and reason seemed largely incompatible, stemming from Descartes and Kant. Klein, Blomberg, and Hubbard (2004) argue just this when stating “On the one hand, the pietists continued to search the

Scriptures to feed their hungry souls and to guide their quest for virtuous lives. On the other hand, whereas Aquinas had sought the integration of philosophy and theology, the rationalists promoted the radical divorce of each from the other” (pp. 51-52).

Two Distinct Voices

LeDrew (2012) distinguishes between the two camps of atheism and their varying foci: “While scientific atheism is built on the premise that religion is the antithesis of science and therefore must be de-legitimated through rational-scientific critique of its

‘truth’ claims (and thus ‘confronted’), humanistic atheism recognizes the social nature of religion and thus directs critique at social problems that might be of common concern to secularists and believers” (p. 84). Today, one is able to find religiosity being confronted by both aspects of atheism, yet in Lewis’s day, scientific atheism was the paradigmatic conflict between the two worldviews. In Miracles, Lewis (2001) distinguishes the belief systems of Naturalists and Supernaturalists in order to demonstrate rationally the belief in

miracles as well as the supernatural. Kilby (1964) breaks down these points of view when stating, “One is that of the Naturalist, the man who believes that nature is ‘the whole show’ and that nothing else exists. … The other is the Supernaturalist, who believes that one Thing exists outside time and space and has produced nature” (p. 160). Ultimately, it is the integral belief or disbelief in a super-nature that differentiates the two opposing camps and thus a central aspect of discourse. Developmentalism, or the idea that history is an upward trend of progress, eventually solidified during modernity further relegating supernatural beliefs to what seems like a point of irredeemable history (Klein et al.,

2004).

Dickerson and O’Hara (2006) point to the paradigmatic change concerning thought from the Enlightenment: “The Enlightenment was the age of encyclopedia.…It was an age that wanted to write definitions and provide encyclopedic information—that is, to capture the whole truth of a thing rationally and scientifically” (p. 23). Such a lens obviously placed the concept of God as suspect. One unique rationalist voice emerging in the seventeenth century leading to free thought was none other than Baruch Spinoza.

Although many have seemed to confuse the beliefs of Spinoza concerning nature and

God, he was undoubtedly an atheist inspired by reason and not faith. Nadler (2006), for example, notes the tendency of some to label Spinoza more so a pantheist rather than an atheist due to his colorful language toward nature. Instead, the super-naturalizing of nature was to be dispelled by reason, especially the sublime: “There is no place in

Spinoza’s system for a sense of mystery in the face of nature. Such an attitude is to be dispelled by the intelligibility of things. Religious wonder is bred by ignorance, he

believes” (p. 31). In other words, the centralization of science and rationalism undermines transcendent and religious appeals ultimately leading to a centralizing of humanity.

Spinoza is most famous for the phrase: “Deus, sive Natura”—meaning “God, or

Nature.” Nadler (2016) states elsewhere in the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy that

Spinoza’s “Nature is an indivisible, uncaused, substantial whole—in fact, it is the only substantial whole” (para. 17). Therefore, in light of reason, humanity is able to reign supreme over nature via inquiry and thus find freedom and liberation from religious beliefs of the past. Kearney (1988) determines this same point when stating, “Spinoza concludes accordingly that imagination is incompatible with freedom: for freedom can only be achieved when the mind has dispelled all ‘imaginative illusions’ (auxilia imaginationis).” (p. 162). Norman (2004) adds the later impact of other figures throughout Europe like John Addington Symonds of Italy, Baron D’Holbach of France, and ultimately Ludwig Feurbach of Germany who helped to advance the humanistic movement ultimately combining humanism and atheism together. Through their influence as well as others, man was posited to be a product of Nature and God ultimately a projection, or wishful thinking, of man thereby progressing the position of Protagoras and formulating humanity into a god-term itself. Whereas humanism began as a concept focusing on education involving the humanities during the Enlightenment, it later became a weighted term connecting studies as well as free thought. Norman (2004) points to this synthesis by positing that “[M]odern atheists and secularists, in adopting the word

‘humanism’, have deliberately been drawing on the older connotations of the word in the

cultural tradition—connotations having to do with the assertion of human dignity and the celebration of what is finest in human thought and creativity” (p. 14).

However, during the same time as Spinoza, another figure emerged named

Giambattista Vico who posited that reason alone was unable to fully encompass humanity let alone epistemology, thus invoking the vitality of the sublime ultimately through language. Vico rejected Cartesian dualism because he believed that various forms of speech like metaphor and synecdoche could help affect the whole person. Smith (2009) states, “Along with these tropes, Vico believed that figures of thought, if properly fashioned by careful word choice, could fascinate the mind and thereby hold attention or move the soul” (p. 211). Foss, Foss, and Trapp (2014) note that Vico’s ideas were later progressed by Ernesto Grassi in the twentieth century, especially through the concept of ingenium. In his Rhetoric as Philosophy, Grassi (1980) posits that ingenium is “used to

‘decipher’ the world without which reality would remain unknown and mute; ingenium is hence an activity that lets the divine shine” (p. 16). Foss et al. (2014) further add that

“For Grassi, the capacity of ingenium to see different possibilities—to manifest in imagination, work, and language—ultimately is realized in the concept of folly” (p. 67).

Folly is a rhetorical term denoting that rational inquiry alone cannot mine the depths of existence because it is an instrument employed to measure only the physical world and thus nature rather than the metaphysical. All in all, from these perspectives, one can see an integral role of the imagination wherein one is able to deduce various relata existing between nature and the metaphysical thus revealing the supernatural. In relation to

Christian rhetoric, Campbell and Cilliers (2015) note that uses of paradox, folly, and

metaphor embody such a discourse that opens up a new world for interlocutors:

“Paradoxical rhetoric may also involve juxtaposing seemingly irreconcilable images or realities, which creates a liminal space and invites perception of the new creation in the midst of the old” (p. 186). However, in doing so, sehnuscht is inevitably invoked creating a unique rhetorical experience.

Modern-Day Echoes

Much work has been put forth regarding the communicative aspects of both religious participants as well as those of atheism. In Lessl’s (1989) article The Priestly

Voice, he distinguishes between the bardic and the priestly voice. Whereas the bardic voice, “which retraces patterns of self-conception” often via storytelling, is most noted today through television, the priestly voice “speaks on behalf of an elite subgroup of society…and bears responsibility for making its esoteric concepts meaningful without overreaching the linguistic limits of an initiate audience” (p. 185). From these notions,

Lessl (1989) uniquely depicts the modern role of scientists as actually that of the religious priest thereby drawing some connections. Interestingly enough, Rhodes (2014) employs these varying voices in order to centralize them upon the rhetoric of atheism. Rather than contending for either the bardic, or the priestly, Rhodes (2014) concocts a third voice, namely the atheistic voice:

Whereas bardic communication is reflexive, (it is the voice of a culture speaking

back to itself), and the priestly voice is extensive, (it is the voice of an elite

subculture speaking down to another), the atheistic voice is refractive, (it is the

voice of a culture—priestly or bardic—reflected back onto itself, after being

filtered and bent by the light of literalism and incongruity). (p. 328)

Through the archetype of Christopher Hitchens, the rhetorical voice of atheism is shown to employ the burlesque as well as the grotesque. Whereas aspects of the burlesque are often employed to create a caricature of opposing voices, the grotesque is more so used to de-stabilize normative opinions, or beliefs, to “persuade by way of affect at the basest levels of guttural response.” (Rhodes, 2014, p. 336). In other words, the discourse of atheism and its central theme hinges on shaking interlocutors through the demolition of god-terms rather than progressing a particular position. Of course, there are varying organizations that maintain an atheistic position but do not necessarily employ Rhodes’s

(2014) atheistic voice. One of the more well-known organizations is none other than the

American Humanist Association.

As for the Christian voice, which is polyphonic, many scholars have put forth much research in an effort to recapture its rhetorical facets which ultimately began in the

1st century with the primitive church. For example, Wilder (1964) speaks of the Christian movement and the New Testament as a new type of speech event consisting of a paradigmatic shift which transformed the images of Judaism through a hermeneutic of fulfillment overflowing in various forms of communication like myths, parables, images, and visions. He presses this new speech event when stating “The new myth-making powers of the Christian movement meant more than an overthrow of rival myths and more than a liberation from letter and from law. It meant the portrayal of the real nature of things and of the course of existence so far as human speech could encompass such

mysteries” (p. 127). Campbell and Cilliers (2012), however, take a unique turn in discussing Christian rhetoric primarily through the lens of homiletics, or preaching. To these authors, folly is the paradoxical central aspect not just of the cross but of

Christianity as a whole. By using the Apostle Paul’s preaching as the paradigm,

Campbell and Cilliers demonstrate the inherent folly of Christian belief especially in the modern world: “First, foolish preaching interrupts. It employs transgressive rhetoric that disrupts the myths and conventions and rationalities of the old age, which lead to death.

Such preaching engages in creative resistance to the principalities and powers that hold people captive and often prevent them from imagining alternatives to the ways of the world” (p. 37).

Nevertheless, modernity has had major effects upon Christianity and its rhetorical discourse. Uniquely, Wilder (1976) also saw the effects of modernity upon religious language stemming from the enlightenment period but noted a quintessential underlying need going unmet which would require a return to dramatic speech: “But in our own century the conditions favor both a return of the myth and the coincidence of the mythical world with the everyday world” (p. 95). Nevertheless, Wilder (1976) saw attempts to meet this need in his day by physically inducing ecstasy via drug use by New Age movements but later proclaimed that “[v]isions, poetry, and wisdom are not so cheap that they can be secured by the shortcut of ravishment or intoxication” (p. 72). The downgrading of the religious imagination following the Enlightenment can even be compared to the technologization of language, namely mythos that occurred much earlier during the time of Plato. Even in Fisher’s (1987) project of narrative rationality, he

distinguishes the primacy of mythos as the original rationale thus taking a step toward the religious mind—“ideas that cannot be verified or proved in any absolute way” (p. 19).

Although religious language has often been negated through “progress,” it does not ultimately mean that religious communication is not integral to the individual, or even society.

Both voices—the Atheist and the Christian voice—can be heard today extending even into particular movements. As mentioned before, in an effort to analyze the rhetorical disengagement, or employment of sehnsucht, I have chosen two contemporary movements: The American Humanist Association and Christian Hedonism.

The American Humanist Association

The American Humanist Association (AHA) was formulated in 1941 by Curtis

Reese and John Dietrich, two Unitarian pastors, as a means to “organize its advocates and align the organization for the mutual education of both its religious and nonreligious members” (“Our History,” para. 7). Chandler (1994) additionally adds Charles Potter to the list of leaders who, during its earliest years, took Unitarianism and helped reformulate it into a rhetorical movement that exists today called secular humanism: “Inflamed by sermons, tracts, books, resolutions, and letters to editors, humanism swept through the

Unitarian movement, becoming the most dynamic and distinctive theological controversy since New England Transcendentalism” (p. 13). Potter more so desired to create humanism into a religious movement differing from Reese and Dietrich; however, such a desire was to no avail. Since the forties, the organization has made quite a few accomplishments in their humanistic endeavors. Not only have they progressed their

agenda through publications like the Humanist magazine, but they also remain steadfast in their advocacy and progress regarding agendas like abortion rights, feminism, and

LGBTQ rights. Whereas the first Humanist Manifesto was published in the thirties, it has since been twice updated with one revision taking place in the seventies and the most recent taking place shortly after the turn of the century. The AHA is also very well known for organizing boycotts to the pledge in regard to the statement “under God” as well as for billboard ads in 2008 stating “Don’t Believe in God? You Are Not Alone” that led to major publicity for the movement (para. 23). Currently, the president of AHA is

Rebecca Hale who was elected in 2013.

The core themes underlying AHA like reason, science, and progress point to the already addressed relationship to the Enlightenment and many of its thinkers. AHA advocates constantly define themselves through a lens of science. For instance, editors of

AHA website posits, “Humanism, like science, self-evaluates and improves itself when confronted with new information” (“Defending nontheists…,” para. 3). Other concerns are notably defined in the most updated version of their manifesto, the Humanist

Manifesto III: “Humanists recognize nature as self-existing. We accept our life as all and enough, distinguishing things as they are from things as we might wish or imagine them to be” (para. 5). Chandler (1994) adds to this understanding when positing:

The Unitarian Universality pilgrimage to fathom deeper understanding seems

predicated upon the convictions that humans are rational beings who possess the

power to respond intelligently to their surroundings, that human happiness within

the here-and-now constitutes the greatest good, and that religious beliefs must be

developed experientially and applied pragmatically. (p. 42)

All in all, the AHA is an organization that refutes any need for supernatural beliefs via science and modernity. By doing so, a unique rhetorical strategy is needed to contend with humanity’s sehnsucht. Just as Lewis depicted many contemporaries who sought to stifle the inconsolable secret in his day by placing the telos of that longing in the material world, AHA serves as a good model to analyze because transcendence is more so emphasized through rational progress. Therefore, this study will seek to analyze how sehnsucht is through a diversion of emphasis on the material world in addition to examining other strategies of transcendence.

Christian Hedonism

Christian Hedonism, as already mentioned, was established by John Piper, a

Christian pastor in Minnesota, during the 1980s. Both Piper’s background and Christian

Hedonism originate in conservative evangelicalism wherein belief in the supernatural, sin, salvation, and eternal life continue to exist. In this movement, Piper (2010) has conjoined the notion of longing and satisfaction to one’s faith in the gospel story of

Christ and thus salvation. Elsewhere in an address discussing the life and influence of

C.S. Lewis, Piper (2010) connects both the movement of Christian Hedonism and

Lewis’s notion of sehnsucht pointing to its centrality in the movement and thus rhetorical discourse:

But now we have seen that in fighting for the dignity and majesty and eternity of

the experience of Joy, Lewis is in fact fighting for the glory of God. Because, as 15

he says, fully to enjoy God is to glorify God. … And so the means by which God

brought Lewis to himself — the inconsolable longing for (the Joy in) what he

knew not — turns out to be the ultimate goal of the Christian life as well. (para.

36-37)

Although the movement began after the publication of Piper’s work, it ultimately grew from the creation of Desiring God, an internet network of resources produced by Jon

Bloom, a layperson within Piper’s church, in 1994: “What started with tapes and John’s books, Desiring God has blossomed into an international web ministry with 12,000+ free resources and 3.5 million monthly users (“About us,” 1994). On DesiringGod.org’s

“About Us” page, one finds a mission statement that attempts to connect all of humanity both religious and non-religious: “You were made to know glory—God’s glory. And the deepest longings of the human heart can be fully satisfied by pursuing that glory. In fact,

God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in Him” (para. 10). Interestingly,

Piper (2011) often must deal with negative perceptions of not only religion, but more particularly evangelical Christianity, from the influence of enlightenment thinkers like

Immanuel Kant who argued that pleasure could not be a motivating factor in religious duty. In one example, Piper implies that worship instead should be seen as a pleasure:

“But when worship is reduced to disinterested duty, it ceases to be worship” (p. 98).

Nevertheless, such influence still persists within much of conservative evangelicalism as well as other denominations of Christian belief. All in all, Christian Hedonism stands as a unique contemporary Christian organization that centralizes and extends C. S. Lewis’s notion of sehnsucht as sustenance for the Christian life and can, therefore, be studied by

examining rhetorical strategies that seek to link the concept to greater experiences of joy and fulfillment. Just as Lewis attempted to awaken his interlocutors through a rhetorical means, the movement of Christian Hedonism seeks to create depth and sustenance in the

Christian life through that very same concept. Therefore, the philosophy of Christian

Hedonism is a good model for this research project because it serves to extend the rhetorical understanding of Lewis’s sehnsucht.

Transcendence and Fragmentation

The Sublime in the Supernatural

In light of the notion of religious longing, research involving desires for transcendence are pertinent to this research. Interestingly, such desires are evident throughout history. For example, through the speech of Aristophanes in the Symposium,

Plato demonstrated early-on knowledge of a transcendental longing within humans to be made whole (189c-193e). In this speech, Zeus disciplines humanity by cutting them in half and ordering Apollo to turn their faces toward the remains of the gash—the navel— so as to remind them of their less than whole selves. Whereas the myth delivered by

Aristophanes points the experience of transcendence more towards love and marriage, the ultimate form of rhetorical identification between humans, one can attest even to the underlying mythic and religious meaning of marriage concerning transcendence and identification with a transcendent Other as depicted in various sacred texts. Such longing, in fact, seems to be inherent within Christianity. From the Genesis story itself, one can find a form of alienation that takes place between Creator and creation in light of disobedience and thus a longing for all things to be redeemed. Campbell (1988) further

adds to this idea in The Power of Myth when discussing marriage itself: “It’s the reunion of the separate duad. Originally you were one. You are now two in the world, but the recognition of the spiritual identity is what marriage is. … We reconstruct the image of the incarnate God, and that’s what marriage is” (pp. 5-6). Even Augustine, the great

Christian rhetorician, declared after his conversion “Thou hast made us for thyself, O

Lord, and our heart is restless until it finds rest in thee” (Confessions, I). Therefore, such a notion of longing is not solely found in the teachings and works of Lewis but rather a phenomenon related to humanity and, perhaps, some underlying need to be whole.

In rhetorical studies, transcendence has been discussed in a variety of ways. Of course, Burke (1961) discusses the aspect of transcendence while explaining the influence of god-terms, or words that summarize: “Is there not a sense in which a summarizing term, the overall name or title, could be said to ‘transcend’ the many details subsumed under that head, somewhat as ‘spirit’ is said to ‘transcend matter’”? (p. 3). In other words, language itself allows for forms of transcendence to take place.

Nevertheless, the greatest aspect of transcendence deals with moralist perfection and the hierarchy. Burke himself was influenced by platonic thought thus giving credence not simply to rhetoric but additionally to dialectic which points to detachments between substances rather than displaying them as a whole. Zappen (2009), in fact, notes the centrality of the rhetorical-dialectical aspect of transcendence in Burke’s work stemming from Plato: “Dialectic is thus necessary but not sufficient to resolve the jangle of partisan voices and competing interests. It is rather part of a complex process that merges rhetoric with dialectic and dialogue and with poetic myth” (p. 291). Bruder (1998) notes aspects

of transcendence dealing with personal identity in the religious act of “selfing” as participants engage with ancient communicative rituals thus “employing sophisticated dialogical means by which to realize a very different ‘mode of personality configuration’ than that achieved in their former lives” (p. 114). Elsewhere, Vartabedian, Drumheller, and Gerlich (2016) point to instances of iconography eligible to “produce the feeling of a

‘beyond’ for the faithful” and thus transcendence as well as alienation for others (p. 21).

Nevertheless, not much rhetorical scholarship has analyzed transcendence from the standpoint of a positive religious yearning.

Peter Berger (1970), a recently deceased but renowned sociologist, posited that some experiences exist that can be called signals of transcendence. Berger (1970) defines these signals as “phenomena that are to be found within the domain of our ‘natural’ reality but that appear to point beyond that reality” (p. 53). The example given by Berger

(1970) does not necessarily stem from a religious setting but instead from the everyday in which a mother singing her child back to sleep in the middle of night, in a sense, embodies a high priestess reclaiming order in the dark cosmos for the child. Rushing

(1985) additionally formulates a unique argument concerning transcendence but more so attempts to encapsulate the harm wrought by the paradigmatic shift into modernity upon consciousness: “Our time is marked by a yearning for wholeness. While continuing to benefit from the progress wrought by the Enlightenment and the Scientific Revolution,

Western humanity is beginning to ask, ‘At what price?” (p. 188). Interestingly, Rushing

(1985) posits that death itself is a meta-rhetorical exigency, or a disturbance marking humanity’s lack of wholeness and, therefore, may cause life itself to be a rhetorical

situation marked by a desire to transcend. From this perspective, the film E.T is analyzed, pinpointing through various markers the negative effect on the consciousness resulting from the Enlightenment as well as reliance on scientific advancement. Rather than the child-like, extra-terrestrial being the alienating figure, adult humans—fully rational beings—are more so characterized as villainous: “In E.T., the portrait of the villains is chillingly accurate. They are adult, male, technologically advanced scientists, astronauts, doctors, and government agents” (p. 197).

Nevertheless, other aspects of transcendence have found familiar ground ultimately leading to discussions concerning the rhetorical concept of the sublime.

Whereas Aristotle focused in his work on the techne of rhetoric, Longinus is more so interested in the affect of language: “Our persuasions we can usually control, but the influences of the sublime bring power and irresistible might to bear, and reign supreme over every hearer” (I). Through this concept, DeLuca and Demo (2000) interestingly uncover the sublime experience of certain photos taken by Carl Watkins at Yosemite

National Park which, in turn, helped to aid in environmentalism efforts. More importantly, the notions of disconnect and religious awe emanating from said photos of nature further call into question the existence of a religious longing to transcend possibly in connection to another topos: “Those cliffs, silent and immutable, have always been and always will be. They bear witness to eternity and deign not note humanity’s ephemeral moment. The sedimented composition of the valley’s chasm suggests an edenic-time continuum that transcends even geological time” (p. 246). Such experiences seem to connect directly to the aforementioned German concept called sehnsucht. For

Lewis, this concept was intertwined with various facets of nature, beauty, myth, and the human imagination. Kilby (1964) writes of this connection demonstrated in Out of the

Silent Planet, a space novel written by Lewis: “One of our race, if plunged back for a moment in the warm, trembling, iridescent pool of that pre-Adamite consciousness, would have emerged believing that he had grasped the absolute.” (p. 81). Such longing, however, was believed by Lewis to be exhibited most often through myth making whether in religious stories or even novels. Therefore, dramatic speech—theopoetry or mythopoetry—is needed: “The glory of the Morning Star is somehow not enough glory for us. We want much more, and it is at this point that poetry and mythology come to our aid” (Kilby, 1964, p. 81). Uniquely, Fisher’s narrative rationality helps to centralize this facet by pointing to the inherent story-telling nature of humans which may, in turn, solidify Lewis’s religious argument concerning the concept if extended even into the fantastic.

Such a longing was, in fact, proclaimed by Lewis to be one of the main facets leading his mind and heart toward religious faith in his autobiography Surprised by Joy published in 1955. In fact, a main story retold is an experience of sehnsucht years after his first childhood glimpses of longing wherein he was unexpectedly captivated by a particular illustration. His experience similarly recalls the transportive moments of the sublime in Watkins’ Yosemite photos (Deluca & Demo, 2000). Lewis (1986) writes of this moment by stating:

Pure “Northernness” engulfed me: a vision of huge, clear spaces hanging above

the Atlantic in the endless twilight of Northern summer, remoteness, severity…

and almost at the same moment I knew that I had met this before, long, long ago.

… And with that plunge back into my own past, there arose at once, almost like

heartbreak, the memory of Joy itself, the knowledge that I had once had what I

had now lacked for years, that I was returning at last from exile and desert lands

to my own country, and the distance of the Twilight of the Gods and the distance

of my own past Joy, both unattainable, flowed together in a single, unendurable

sense of desire and loss. (p. 41)

Interestingly, the importance of memory and place in rhetorical scholarship could possibly be extended by exploration of Lewis’s visions in relation to nostalgia. Phillips

(2004) contends that memory itself is rhetorical as meaning is given to past experiences and then used to persuade others. Other researchers, like Dora (2006), similarly connect place to memory by discussing the mythical status attributed to spaces and the pain, or nostalgia, exhibited by dispossessed inhabitants.

In such memory research, the uncanny, or feelings of estrangement first conceptualized by Freud (1919), is centralized due to the aspect of one’s simultaneous positioning through place and recollection of the past. However, Lewis’s memories more so unsettle his reliance upon modernistic assumption revealing the uncanny in the sacred site of the individual, rather than an external place, stemming from the simultaneous position of pre-modern experiences within modernity. The feelings of estrangement in

Lewis’s recollection also solicits attention to place through belonging via the imagination pointing to the transcendent rather than physical (Gelder & Jacobs, 1999). Whereas Dora

(2006) emphasizes the political uses of nostalgia and experiences of the uncanny and how

these two components can act as personal rupturing points to create feelings of

“estrangement and homelessness,” the same must be said for Lewis’s desire which rhetorically found consummation in a transcendental search for another place (p. 213).

However, Lewis’s experiences of sehnsucht are based in his individual memory; while, at the same time, posited by him to be a universal experience eligible to be conjured through memory (Phillips, 2004). Therefore, Lewis engages interlocutors through memory and imaginative worlds, like Narnia, to induce a type of uncanny discontent thereby revealing a rhetorical connection of place, nostalgia, and especially memory with sehnsucht

(Gilbert, 2009). From this perspective, rhetorical literature on place, nostalgia, and memory could possibly be extended by connecting them to the religious imagination in this study.

The Sublime in Nature

Yet, with the paradigmatic change resulting from modernity, such non-rational experiences are quickly called into question. If current humanists follow the path of

Spinoza, what happens to such longings? From a scientific perspective, Cavanaugh

(2014) uniquely contrasts what he deems the connective sublime and the scientific sublime: “This sublime differs from that experienced by poets, philosophers, or casual observers in that it arises from knowledge of the phenomenon. … It is only through a deep understanding of phenomenon that one can understand its true complexity, and these understandings, when mixed with the emotion of reverence, are sublime” (p. 62).

Interestingly, the experiences discussed are noted more so by rhetorical affect rather than one’s complete understanding of the cosmos. Cavanaugh (2014) continues by pointing to

the need amongst scientific teachers to promote such sublime experiences in students through language and other means. In fact, discussions of metaphor and images become primary in attempting to collaborate and distinguish a unique pedagogy. Elsewhere, scholars like Girod (2007) also attempt to incorporate use of aesthetics and the sublime in an effort to captivate the attention and admiration of younger students toward scientific studies. Such distinctions demonstrate that there are many, both in the atheist and humanist community, who do not deny an aspect of mystery to the world. For example,

Norman (2004) argues such a stance but refuses any credence to metaphysical experiences: “If religious believers insist on reminding a humanist philosopher that

‘there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy,’ they are almost certainly right. To that extent the sense of mystery is an aspect of the religious stance for which I have every respect. We must however resist the temptation to turn it into an appeal to non-rational insight” (p. 135; emphasis added). It is this very strategy that I wish to further analyze through this project.

Lessl (2002) points to the fact that naturalists still contend a type of fragmentation, or alienation, as seen in religious beliefs but maintain that a type of salvation can be obtained via gnosis, or knowledge: “The solution is to complete the process, to attain the fullness of knowledge that through science will turn separation from nature into the mastery of nature” (p. 142). Couched in the discourse of evolutionary progress, Lessl (2002) contends that the language of science, in many ways, has become a type of Gnosticism overshadowing the “spiritual” desires and affections of human consciousness resulting in a “Promethean defiance of nature” (p. 142). The most

dominant method of defiance noted by Lessl (2002) is at the expense of religious questions and thus a strategy of misdirection regarding religious longing for transcendence. In fact, just as the ancient Gnostics posited that Adam and Eve’s eating of the fruit in Eden represented knowledge and self-liberation rather than sin and alienation, often the ideology of pure materialism attempts to supersede feelings of fragmentation through its own forms of myth making. Uniquely, even in the frame of progress, the growth of humanism via science is still found to be incomplete. However, Betz (1985) distinguishes between the via negativa and the via eminentia. Whereas transcendence through via negativa is found to lead to a psychosis of sorts, via eminentia refocuses on immanence and thus a divine shared substance relating to the ultimate vision: “Knowing oneself as substance, the individual recognizes the seminal condition of human existence…the individual possesses here-and-now the full capacity of the Ultimate” (pp.

31-32). Obviously, there is much more to be learned regarding the rhetorical discourse of secular humanism and its strategies for transcendence.

Rhetorical Criticism

This research endeavor seeks to uncover rhetorical strategies dealing with the religious concept of sehnsucht popularized by Lewis primarily in his sermonic work The

Weight of Glory. Due to the uniqueness of Lewis’s rhetoric in this sermon and his passion regarding this longing, more research is needed to investigate such claims. As mentioned before, rhetorical transcendence will be a major focal point of this research, intertwined with competing mythoi (i.e. overarching transcendental stories) that either place a distant

Other as the ultimate, or humanity itself. In both contexts, rhetorical transcendence exists thus needing further inspection and analysis in relation to Lewis’s concept of sehnsucht.

To best analyze the concept, I will utilize the method of rhetorical criticism of selected texts within the aforementioned movements to construct a theoretical logic of sehnsucht. Rhetorical criticism is a manner of analyzing verbal and non-verbal discourse that seeks to interpret and evaluate strategies and other mediated attempts of influence upon interlocutors in various settings (Campbell & Burkholder, 1997). The goal of the critic, therefore, is to centralize the text and rhetorical theory in an effort to reveal greater understanding of rhetorical uses through a re-creation of the rhetorical experience.

Aristotle argued just this point in his work On Rhetoric wherein the faculty of discovery is attributed to a critic in relation to rhetorical phenomenon. From this perspective, my role as the critic throughout the current study will seek to analyze multiple texts using criticism to ultimately develop a rhetorical logic surrounding the concept of sehnsucht and its uses thereby constructing rhetorical theory. As Brummett (1984) notes, “A more promising line would be to argue that a rhetorical criticism is the way in which the critic himself or herself, perhaps acting as a representative participant, actually did assemble message sets in a rhetorical transaction” (p. 102). Such a perspective centralizes rhetorical theory, rather than any particular type of methodology, to gain insight into specific contexts and thus will serve as the best means for the current study because of its inductive approach to rhetorical discourse.

Chapter Layout

To begin, Lewis’s The Weight of Glory is analyzed using rhetorical criticism to explicate his understanding of sehnsucht as well as both the professed strategies that can either stoke or stifle said longing. In doing so, a paradigm is constructed regarding rhetoric and the concept of longing to aid efforts in the following two chapters wherein the rhetoric of both Christian Hedonism and the American Humanist Association will be further analyzed. Therefore, the criticism of this sermon adds the first layer of theoretical understanding toward Lewis’s sehnsucht as a rhetorical phenomenon eligible to lead one to belief and acceptance of the supernatural.

In chapter 3, I investigate the contemporary movement of Christian Hedonism that exists within the public of evangelical conservatism by employing rhetorical criticism. As for texts, central themes and strategies are uncovered in Piper’s (2011) seminal work Desiring God: Meditations of a Christian Hedonist which attempts to rhetorically explain their underlying beliefs which are undergirded and extended by

Lewis’s sehnsucht.

In the following chapter I likewise analyze the rhetorical discourse of AHA, a contemporary atheistic organization. The texts chosen to reveal the focal point and presence of the movement are the three existing manifestos. Through criticism and utilization of Bormann’s (1972) theory of rhetorical visions, I construct a rhetorical picture of the mission, meaning, and nature of humanism as a whole and thus its strategy to divert such a longing to a materialistic end.

The fourth and final chapter draws upon these analyses in hopes of uncovering implications regarding Lewis’s sehnsucht and the desire for religious transcendence and how it plays out in rhetorical discourse. A few other concepts involved in this research that are extended, or thickened, within rhetorical literature are: myth, the imagination, and nostalgia. These concepts play a pivotal role especially in relation to religious transcendence and rhetorical discourse as well as the rhetoric of science stemming from humanism. Ultimately, conclusions are drawn following implications from this research and brought to a close in the final chapter.

Contributions of the Study

Since the Enlightenment, scholars have called into question the powerful effect of such uses of language, like myth, because of their meta-rhetorical influence which inevitably produces meaning (Levi-Strauss, 1979). Such meaning in the scientific paradigm is devalued and posited to be more so an illusion. Instead, humanity’s relation to the cosmos should solely be understood through rational means. However, in Lewis’s day, he saw this devaluing of language as well as meaning and sought to reinforce their importance. Interestingly enough, these same issues of language seem to be at the heart of discussions today within communication and rhetorical studies especially regarding various modes of discourse like narrative (Fisher, 1987). Lewis’s desire of longing, however, seems to be a central aspect at the heart of these issues calling into question the ontology of humanity and its relationship to language (Newman, 2010).

If such a longing is illusory then both it, as well as the language that can inflame it, should be superseded. However, if it is central to our existence producing inspiration

and meaning in the cosmos, Lewis and others contend that it should instead be cherished.

By performing this research, I hope to add to our understanding of Lewis’s understanding of language and its interconnected nature to sehnsucht. In doing so, other rhetorical items will be uncovered: strategies for transcendence, underlying narratives or mythoi, and even possibly visual rhetoric and its relationship to the imagination. Additionally, by analyzing the manifestoes of the AHA, more insight will be gained regarding the rhetoric of science as well as the genre of manifesto, a politically secular text.

Newman (2010) uniquely explains the desire of this study when concluding an analysis of the movie Contact which displays the questionable effects of sehnsucht in modernity and thus humanity’s transcendence: “The danger of the film lies not in its power to destroy transcendence, but to defer it, and deaden the wonder that viewers might otherwise honestly feel when they are humbled by the cosmos” (para. 44). Rhetoric itself is wrapped in this discussion and thus inherently linked to Lewis’s sehnsucht. Therefore, this endeavor is to further reveal that connection as well the varying rhetorical strategies exhibited by Christian Hedonists and the AHA.

CHAPTER II – C. S. LEWIS AND THE WEIGHT OF GLORY

To many, C. S. Lewis is one of the most fascinating minds of the twentieth century. While authoring numerous books in philosophy, fiction, and non-fiction, he ultimately became a bedrock for Christianity during the onslaught of the Second World

War. Lessl (2004) describes his rhetorical uniqueness positing, “Lewis brought a voice to the twentieth century that was fresh because it resisted the yearning for novelty that our age mistakes for the wellspring of genius” thus encouraging rhetorical scholars to analyze

Lewis’s rhetoric (p. 118). However, his speaking engagements and, most especially, his sermons are often lost in the canon of his major works. Nevertheless, Lewis crafted and spoke, what is believed to be, one of the greatest sermonic works of the twentieth century in a sermon entitled The Weight of Glory (Taylor, 2016). Lewis delivered The Weight of

Glory to a group of University students at Oxford during the war. Hooper noted this event as having a rather large audience, pointing to the intrigue and interest many students had concerning Lewis and his recent publications: “It was preached at the invitation of

Canon T. R. Milford at Solemn Evensong…to one of the largest congregations ever assembled there in modern times” (Lewis, 1976, p. 17). The chapel is said to seat 400 people comfortably, denoting at the very least the possible number of students in attendance in 1941 (“Parish Profile,” p. 10).

Although specific reactions to the speech are limited there was an obvious esteeming of Lewis’s overall message as it was published in Britain’s Theology journal only four months following its delivery (Lewis, 1976). Hooper likewise reasoned this sermon to be “so magnificent that not only do I dare to consider it worthy of a place with

some of the Church Fathers, but I fear I should be hanged by Lewis’s admirers if it were not given primacy of place” (Lewis, 1976, p. 17). However, valid reasons are often found lacking in discussions of the sermon’s rhetoricality resulting in more questions rather than answers. What intrinsic facet of this particular text results in such high praise? Is it

Lewis’s mere logicality and explanation of the Christian faith? Or rather, is it the experience of this work and Lewis’s mytho-poetic language which attempted to uncover reality in the midst of desperation and war? Although Lewis’s preaching is often seen as unorthodox, this may be due to the fact of his employment of a more captivating method of discourse using mythopoeia, or myth-making, to induce a mythical experience at a time when daily life was marred by death and war.

In connection to the Inklings and Lewis’s view of myth, there are unique rhetorical employments of myths such as mythopoeia that are often overlooked in scholarship. In The Christian World of C. S. Lewis, Kilby (1964) argues that the

Lewisonian construction of myths through language (i.e. mythopoeia) both helps encourage a greater understanding of a particular reality through “picture-making” but, more significantly, issues a “deep call from that Reality” (p. 81). In other words, the employment of mythopoeia by a rhetor is, in a sense, a summons to enter into and experience the myth-world being constructed which finds summation and fulfillment in the Christian mythos. The term myth has much baggage and is neglected in scholarship due to critical theory and advancements of deconstruction which has stifled the transcendent longings of mankind most often found in the poetic, or the act of creating myths and fantasy (Levi-Strauss, 1979). However, the Inklings, a group of Oxford

colleagues during the mid-20th century consisting of J. R. R. Tolkien, Owen Barfield, C.

S. Lewis and others, viewed myth as having great affect especially through literary stories in which the world was recast in a distant land to induce new insight, wonder, and longing for actual Reality. Tolkien denotes myth as being inherently connected to the

Gospel story of Christianity because it consummates all such stories (Dickerson &

O’Hara, 2006). Through this lens, Lewis himself was persuaded concerning myth by

Tolkien, Hugo Dyson, and Owen Barfield but nuances the notion by connecting it to mankind’s transcendent longing, or sehnsucht in many of his works. From this unique perspective, the mythopoeic could be extended in Christian rhetoric by viewing this same facet, although a higher mode, in the act of preaching as Lewis frames the transcendent longings of his contemporaries through the Christian mythos. Therefore, this chapter will examine C. S. Lewis’s sermon The Weight of Glory at Oxford University in 1941 and his employment of mythopoiesis to persuade students to believe and enter into the Christian mythos thereby providing joy and consolation for their transcendent longings despite the desperation of war.

Before continuing, I must first distinguish Lewis’s rhetorical strategy in the sermon from what Whitson and Poulakos (1993) discuss as the “aesthetic,” or an artistic impulse of humans to “create gloriously elaborate worlds out of words,” originally defined by Nietzsche (p. 138). Nietzsche contrasts the aesthetic impulse with the epistemic which instead stems from philosophy and accordingly objective truth (Whitson

& Poulakos, 1993). The perspective proposed by the Inklings and, more specifically,

Lewis in this sermon stands in contrast of the mere aesthetic and closer to the epistemic

because myth is seen as transcendent and eligible to connect interlocutors to ultimate

Reality, rather than escape it, and thus satisfaction for one’s inconsolable longing. In fact, the sub-creative faculty of humans discussed by Tolkien (2014) in On Fairy Stories instead likens the impulse to create fantastic worlds of myth and fantasy to the Christian

God himself who first created using language. This ultimately calls into question the deeper relationship between rhetoric within Christianity as well as the underlying religious connotation of Nietzsche’s aesthetic and the utopian myths espoused by critical theorists. As was mentioned, just as the Inklings and Lewis sought to reinvigorate reality through their fantastic writings, a higher form of sub-creation can be seen taking place in this particular sermon ultimately expanding our knowledge of the concept and the performative act (Jasso, 2015). Jasper (2010) confirms Lewis’s rhetorical knack for summoning readers into story worlds through his written works like The Pilgrim’s

Regress and Surprised by Joy which inevitably lead to a questioning of metaphysical assumptions: “When the spell is broken, we step outside his world, recognizing its allurements, its dramatic and symbolic attractions” (p. 233). However, The Weight of

Glory reveals the highest mode of mythopoeia due to Lewis’s directing of the interlocutors explicitly toward the Christian faith by emplotting the Christian mythos in interlocutors using mankind’s inconsolable longing.

An Inescapable Reality

In 1933, Adolf Hitler became the Chancellor of Germany, altering the course of all the major powers in existence at that time. Britain would later declare war against

Germany in 1939 following their inadmissible invasion of Poland. Later that year, the

Germans began employing “Blitzkrieg,” or lightning war, against the inhabitants of

Western Europe. By mid-1941, Germany had defeated Poland, Denmark, Norway,

Belgium, the Netherlands, Yugoslavia, Greece, and even France (“Introduction to the

Holocaust,” 2016). However, the geographical nature of Great Britain provided a natural defense against the onslaught, buffered by the legendary power of the Royal Navy.

Therefore, the fight for Great Britain would be predominantly an air battle.

The Battle for Britain extended from July until October of 1940. The odds were overwhelmingly against the Royal Air Force (RAF), leaving many in despair: “The

British slightly disposed more than 600 frontline fighters to defend the country. The

Germans meanwhile made available about 1,300 bombers and dive-bombers and about

900 single-engine and 300 twin-engine fighters” (“Battle of Britain,” para. 5). However, the RAF, despite their lack of numbers, magnificently defended the island from the

Luftwaffe, halting the Germans in their invasion efforts. Nevertheless, the country as a whole endured heavy losses from the bombings which did not end until May 1941, almost seven months after the Battle of Britain. In fact, within three months’ time, over

30,000 bombs were dropped on the city of London alone with speculations of up to

20,000 Londoners losing their lives (“The Blitz Hits London,” 2015).

In much of the analysis regarding the effects of bombing over London and other areas, a certain boost in morale seemed to be the focal point. For example, Overy (2009) argued that British citizens found ways to cope with the bombings because of the overall militarization of the society. This form of perseverance and fortitude was known as the

“blitz spirit.” At the beginning of the war, many children of well-to-do families were

evacuated from their homes and sent to live elsewhere away from the bombings.

Similarly, many upper-class Britons as well as evacuees from other European nations found sanctuary at nice hotels (Bell, 2008). On the other hand, lower-class citizens who remained in unsafe areas like Birmingham found shelters or sanctuary underground in

“tubes” or railway stations to find safety (“Air Raid Shelter in London During the Blitz,” para. 1). Nevertheless, the bombings did not, for the most part, affect day to day life.

People still went to work and attempted to live normally as a means of defiance toward

Germany and help in the overall war efforts, hence the “blitz spirit.”

However, despite the persevering nature exhibited by much of Britain throughout the blitz, other stories uncovered moments of panic both throughout London and other cities as bombers demolished homes and businesses. The catastrophic effects dealt to

Coventry in November of 1940 were some of the worst moments of hysteria and panic resulting from the complete leveling of the city. “The air stank of burning flesh, and bodies, some mutilated beyond recognition, lay in the streets” (Harby, 2015, para 1).

Nevertheless, London too was to be a focal point for bombing from the Nazis throughout the next few months even following the Battle of Britain. The last bombing of London, a response to Berlin being bombed, took a major toll: “The last raid of the Blitz occurred on May 10, 1941. It lasted seven hours, killed over 1,400 and injured 1,800” (Bell, 2008, p. 57). In an article regarding his biographical work, Levine (2014) uncovered hysteria and panic, revealing a more deep-seated impact for those left to deal with the carnage wrought by the bombings, despite the general blitz spirit and a positive façade of the government. Many occurrences throughout Britain, whether looting or murders, during

the time of the bombing are only explainable in light of hysteria from shell-shock. A primary example of this panic relates directly to the atmosphere of Oxford. Only one month before Lewis’s appearance there, an Oxford student named John Fulljames shot three fellow students on campus, leaving one dead and two injured (Levine, 2014).

Despite maintaining good grades, the only factor linkable to Fulljames’ actions were his worries about the war. Such experiences must not be overlooked: “The physical wartime destruction of Britain’s towns and cities is well known. But the devastating psychological damage…is harder to quantify and assess. It is likely, in fact, that the Blitz caused considerably more mental trauma to civilians than has commonly been acknowledged by history” (Levine, 2014, para. 16).

One must also note that the reality of the war was primarily felt by the working class who were near the main commercial areas being bombed (Bell, 2008). The same cannot be said regarding university life at Oxford, which escaped bombings throughout the whole war. Koenig (2007) argued for two plausible possibilities as to why Oxford was never bombed. The first is that Oxfordshire County had been deemed an evacuation area for Londoners including government workers, women, and children. Secondly, because Hitler esteemed Oxford and desired to make it a prime government location once

Britain surrendered, he had no desire to see it destroyed. Oxford was therefore a sanctuary of sorts during the blitz but, of course, was not above the overall mental and spiritual impact of Nazi progress. Mackay (2002) contended that, “Above all, people in the Blitz became familiar with sudden, violent death. If they did not actually witness it

they unavoidably came close to it through the steady toll among family, friends, neighbours, and colleagues” (p. 69).

In addition, students in college were the prime targets for conscription into the military. Oxford’s campus itself was home to a Royal Air Force base that even today boasts being a primary source of students for the Battle of Britain: “At that time members of the squadron were called up for active service in the middle of studying for their degrees” (“Oxford University Air Squadron,” para. 1). Such points reveal more clearly the atmosphere and tension on Oxford’s campus during the first few years of the war. Although students were not in primary fear of bombing, many of them would have known casualties whether familial or colleagues from the continuous bombing. Likewise, the unknown future and Nazi progress on continental Europe would have inflated their fears about the future despite studying at one of the most prestigious universities in the world. England, their home, was being transformed into an unusual place inevitably producing feelings of the uncanny and nostalgia for a time before the war (Dora, 2006).

Lewis the Myth Maker

Lewis himself served during the Great War until he was wounded by friendly fire in 1918 (Green & Hooper, 1974). Nevertheless, memories of the war can be found throughout his writings. For example, in Surprised by Joy, Lewis (2004) recounted some of the intricacies and terrors he himself faced at that time: “But for the rest, the war—the frights, the cold, the smell of H.E.1, the horribly smashed men still moving like half-

1 High Explosive 37

crushed beetles, the sitting or standing corpses, the landscape of sheer earth without a blade of grass, the boots worn day and night until they seemed to grow to your feet—all this shows rarely and faintly in memory” (p. 108). Following the war, Lewis progressively adapted his beliefs to Theism and then later converted to Christianity through conversations with fellow colleagues at Oxford—Owen Barfield, J.R.R. Tolkien and Hugo Dyson. The overall process of this mental and spiritual shift in the life of Lewis can be seen in itself as an interpersonal rhetorical process through which Lewis progressively found Christianity to be a key connecting the ideas of myth and longing which would later become the primary theme within his Weight of Glory sermon.

His fresh belief in Christianity at the beginning of the war caused Lewis to perceive a great rhetorical problem that would require spiritual discourse to help alleviate the realities of war. Lewis became an air raid warden and began speaking both to members of the Royal Air Force as well as students at Oxford. Additionally, Lewis became a teacher at Oxford University in 1925 and maintained this position throughout the war. With his conversion to Christianity occurring while employed at Oxford, he apparently endured heavy scrutiny by much of the faculty in light of such beliefs for his acclaim did not reach its zenith until after the war. According to Babbage (1971), many of these contentions were discussed in Lewis’s moments with RAF members who also, at times, found themselves ostracized from military circles because of their beliefs: “He had not been prepared for such virulent hostility: he could understand impatience but not indignation, criticism but not ostracism” (p. 75). By understanding this particular climate

in regards to Christianity on Oxford’s campus as well as Lewis being a teacher to many of the students, one is able to better understand his rhetorical position.

Lewis’s first invitation to preach at St. Mary’s came in the Fall of 1939 following the declaration of war. Green and Hooper (1974) noted his perspective of students and how it molded his discourse in this first setting: “Knowing that many of the undergraduates might go to war—as he had—before they completed their studies in

Oxford, he set himself to answer the peculiarly relevant question, ‘What is the use of beginning a task which we have so little chance of finishing?’” (p. 185). His talks with members of the Royal Air Force were motivated by similar feelings of empathy knowing the weight and possible costs of their task especially preceding the Battle of Britain.

Lewis also began writing at the beginning of the war about pain, suffering, and the existence of God in a work entitled The Problem of Pain, which was published in

October 1940 (Green & Hooper, 1974). Even in this work, one finds Lewis stimulating the public’s spirituality by positing that a good God can still exist in the midst of suffering and pain caused by war (Lewis, 1940). To him, Christianity was the only light to be found as war and death continually darkened the hopes of the country.

The Demythologization of Reality

The brute effects of the war being felt throughout the nation also acted in competition to Lewis’s overall thesis. Lewis obviously knew the possible trend of the average person to question the usefulness of a supernatural belief in the midst of such chaos as seen during the Second World War. Even from Lewis’s ostracization by fellow colleagues, one can deduce that such a position was similarly perceived by many

members of staff at Oxford as being superfluous. It is even perceivable from his sermon that Lewis discovered a growing loss of faith amongst students as he taught and read term papers for various classes. Nevertheless, such questions became explicit as he wrote The

Problem of Pain. In this work, Lewis endeavored to illustrate the logical possibility of maintaining hopeful supernatural beliefs even in the face of war, death, and the rationalizing of Christianity amongst renowned scholars. In part, he was fighting the same battle in his address at Oxford.

Additionally, in April 1941, only a few months before Lewis would present at

Oxford, a different type of blitz took place from Germany, acting as a challenge to the core of Lewis’s discourse as well as to any educated students hoping to cling to the historical Christian faith during the war. Rudolf Bultmann, a German scholar and theologian, produced the term “demythologization,” positing that the superstitious foundation of Christianity must be done away with in the light of modern progress.

Although Bultmann is not specifically addressed in Lewis’s sermon, the overall trend of influence within Christianity by modern philosophies to extinguish its mythical and supernatural qualities is a major focal point. Lewis’s point of the inconsolable secret, on the other hand, deals primarily with the intertwining of myth, reality, and the need for both in the search for meaning. Although it is impossible to know the direct effects of

Bultmann’s work on Oxford’s campus at that time, it is clear from the timing and topic that it was a competing factor in connection to Lewis’s rhetorical problem. Nevertheless, to counter these issues, Lewis spoke in the language of myth thereby transposing the reality of war and illustrating the power of a supernatural Christianity. The following

section will clarify Lewisonian myths and a possible redemption from the negative perceptions of the concept popularized by deconstructionism. Given Lewis’s strategies, myth theory brings the best light to a study of this sermon.

Myth Theory and Mythopoeism

Contemporary research on myths began during the 1960s through the work of

Claude Levi-Strauss stemming from a deeper inquiry into linguistics and Saussure’s structuralism. Levi-Strauss (1979) argued that myths were very similar to language in structure and function and above all else conveyed meaning through their own form of language which he likened to music. Nevertheless, he viewed the role of myth as subordinate especially when compared to science.

We are able, through scientific thinking, to achieve mastery over nature…while,

of course, myth is unsuccessful in giving man more material power over the

environment. However, it gives man, very importantly, the illusion that he can

understand the universe and that he does understand the universe. It is, of course,

only an illusion. (Levi-Strauss, 1979, p. 17)

In other words, despite the function of myth being perceived as a subordinate to scientific observation, it is still a powerful rhetorical tool that inherently convinces, or deceives, through “the meaning aspect” (Levi-Strass, 1979, p. 17). Such an understanding of myth helps explain some of the building blocks of the concept in terms of structure, pattern, and binary notions of reality usually consisting of good and evil. Additionally, Barthes

(1957) argued that myths are motivated and tend to contain some form of analogy.

Therefore, they should never be considered arbitrary as noted in language between the 41

sign and signifier. Interestingly, myth research was first used in the analyzing of films

(i.e. westerns) to detect underlying myths that construct a set reality between insiders, outsiders, good, and evil (Wright, 2001). From such research, myths have become one of the leading notions within critical theory and deconstruction.

Even in the realm of film and media, one can view myths functioning as a way to bring abstractions to concrete reality but often only as a tool for manipulation. “Myths are stories we tell ourselves as a culture in order to banish contradictions and make the world understandable and therefore habitable.” (Storey, 2014, p. 120). Nevertheless, the structuralist perspective concludes that myths are constrained like an untrained

“bricoleur,” rather than an engineer who is inevitably able to emerge above said constraints (Levi-Strauss, 1962, p. 19). From this information, one can deduce a limited perspective of myths in relation to progress, rationalism, and modernity. On the other hand, the efficacious nature of myths is duly noted in providing a type of language and understanding concerning life and the existing world. In fact, a minority field of research can be found actually endeavoring to reveal the use of myth as a positive means to enact social change through its revelatory function within some films (Rushing & Frentz,

1989). Such contrasting notions begs many questions. For example, is not the guiding rhetorical factor in Critical Studies itself, which posits a future utopia of sorts, a myth? In other words, the goal of Critical Theory, or the notion that all power structures and inequalities be abolished, is not a strategic far cry from the heavenly worlds posited by various religions through the employment of myths. Other theoretical viewpoints of

myths emerged in contrast to deconstruction, exalting the purpose of myth as well as its function to a higher level than those stemming from structuralism.

Sehnsucht and the Search for Joy

Two leading characters of the 20th century regarding myths are J.R.R. Tolkien and

C. S. Lewis, both of whom through their imagination prospered the realm of fantasy fiction during this same century. It is, in fact, from a relation of fantasy that one can find a connection to the imagination that provides a “temporary escape or adventure from the normal existence” (Menzies, 2015, p. 35). However, Tolkien did not see myth and fantasy as synonymous, or as mere escapism. Instead, he viewed reality as being layered and able to be reconstructed within these various layers of myth and fantasy. Dickerson and O’Hara (2006) clarified such layers by noting fantasy as being less complex and dealing with earthly matters whereas myths delve into cosmic issues. From Tolkien and

Dyson’s influence, C. S. Lewis ultimately posited that myths invite listeners and readers to reconsider the way one views the world and, at the same time, creates a deeper experience of reality because of its provision of meaning. Of course, Lewis saw the same transformative power in myths as Levi-Strauss; nevertheless, the perspective of reality resulting from myth creation is drastically in contrast between the two.

As previously discussed, the primary experience related to myths for Lewis was sehnsucht, a German word meaning craving or yearning, which can emerge from both myths and fantasy to fuel one’s longing for another place through the imagination.

Menzies (2015) defined sehnsucht as “an experience of insight, something that takes place in the imagination and lies beyond description and is recalled differently from

person to person” (p. 45). Additionally, Scheibe, Baltes, and Freund (2007) qualitatively analyzed experiences of sehnsucht, or LLs (life-longings), which revealed multivalent connections to utopian goals, symbolic experience, and an emphasis on time which can positively, or negatively affect one’s emotions. Carnell (1960) places sehnsucht centrally within the confines of Romanticism which emphasized in varying degrees either passionate identification with nature, or one’s extreme alienation. In Lewis’s (1981) first post-conversion work The Pilgrim’s Regress, he uses sehnsucht to drive the plot. The main character John sets out on a quest to locate a distant island which enraptured his desires: “It seemed to him that a mist which hung at the far end of the wood had parted for a moment, and through the rift he had seen a calm sea, and in the sea an island.” (p.

8). To define sehnsucht, Carnell (1960) uniquely divides such experiences into three categories: the numinous, ecstatic wonder, or melancholy. Whereas the numinous primarily deals with descriptions of dreadful awe in relation to the Absolute, ecstatic wonder is more so an out-of-body experience. Melancholy instead deals with the ideal and a longing to return which “serves as a kind of outlet for the inevitable conflict between desire and nonfulfillment” (Carnell, 1960, p. 12). Out of these three pathe, sehnsucht is shown to bring about a whole spectrum of feeling: “The Romantic attitude represents always an unusually vigorous reaction to the world; this reaction may reflect acceptance or rejection of one’s environment but it must be intense” (p. 20). For Lewis, memory plays a major role in developing his understanding of sehnsucht as he recounts moments of insight from said longing.

In Lewis’s autobiography, Surprised by Joy (2004), he endeavors to show the pervasiveness of sehnsucht throughout his life even before converting. Early in the work,

Lewis reminisces about the Castlereagh Hills, or what they called “the Green Hills,” which could be seen from the window of their home. The beauty of the landscape was stated by Lewis to induce a sense of longing because the hills seemed “quite unattainable”: “They taught me longing—Sehnuscht; made me for good or ill…a votary of the Blue Flower” (p. 6). Carnell (1960) notes the importance of the Blue Flower motif, a facet of literature found during the Middle Ages, which connotes dialectical discontent and pleasure found within a single desire. Elsewhere in his autobiography, Lewis points to three other sights of sehnsucht that enveloped his childhood. The first discussion of this desire and its arousal pertains to his brother’s creation of a toy garden constructed from the lid of a biscuit can and moss: “That was the first beauty I ever knew. What the real garden had failed to do, the toy garden did. It made me aware of nature… As long as

I live my imagination of Paradise will retain something of my brother’s toy garden” (p.

6). Secondly, he reflects on how “the Idea of Autumn” in the Beatrix Potter’ books

“troubled” him, causing a return to the story often only “to reawaken it” (p. 11). The third

“glimpse,” however, took place unexpectedly while reading poetry:

[T]here came a moment when I idly turned the pages of the book and found the

unrhymed translation of Tegner’s Drapa and read I heard a voice that cried,

Balder the beautiful Is dead, is dead—I knew nothing about Balder; but instantly

I was uplifted into huge regions of northern sky. I desired with almost sickening

intensity something never to be described (except that it is cold, spacious, severe,

pale, and remote). (p. 11)

After defining these experiences as Joy rather than mere pleasure or happiness, Lewis centralizes sehnsucht as the theme of his life: “I doubt whether anyone who has tasted it would ever, if both were in his power, exchange it for all the pleasures in the world. But then Joy is never in our power and pleasure often is” (p. 11).

Similar occurrences continued later in Lewis’s life; however, much of the autobiographical work reminisces over experiences with school and various instructors who influenced his intellectual growth. Despite his family being Christian, Lewis recounts his dabbling in the occult adding to his “slow apostasy” from his childhood religion (p. 37). Nevertheless, experiences of sehnsucht continued to add an element to, what he would later call, his inner life. A major turning point for Lewis arose after seeing

Arthur Rackham’s illustrations entitled “Siegfried and the Twilight of the Gods,” wherein he recounts a renewal experience of sehnsucht altering his life forever as the Joy felt in the moment connected back to the visions of his early childhood:

And with that plunge back into my own past there arose at once, almost like

heartbreak, the memory of Joy itself, the knowledge that I had once had what I

had now lacked for years, that I was returning at last from exile and desert lands

to my own country; and the distance of the Twilight of the Gods and the distance

of my own past Joy, both unattainable, flowed together into a single, unendurable

sense of desire and loss, which suddenly became one with the loss of the whole

experience, which, as I now stared round that dusty schoolroom like a man 46

recovering from unconsciousness, had already vanished, had eluded me at the

very moment when I could first say It is. And at once I knew (with fatal

knowledge) that to ‘have it again' was the supreme and only important object of

desire. (p. 41; emphasis added)

From this point, a newfound quest for Joy was obtained. Interestingly, Lewis later found that these “stab[s] of Joy” could be conjured through other mediums (p. 43). For instance, in studying Norse mythology Lewis recognized an object—Northerness—wholly absent from the childhood Christianity he knew. Nature also became another type of “medium” and “reminder” of past instances of Joy (p. 43). With this growing understanding of the desire, Lewis became increasingly aware of his dichotomized state. Whereas his inner state was fueled by imagination, his outer self remained disconnected from the Thing which held his desires: “When I remember my outer life I see clearly that the other is but momentary flashes, seconds of gold scattered in months of dross, each instantly swallowed up in the old, familiar, sordid, hopeless weariness” (p. 66). Eventually, Lewis would begin instruction at Bookham under the Great Knock, solidifying for him the rationalist perspective as well as “fresh ammunition” for his atheism (p. 78).

As time progressed, Lewis began to experience a crisis in relation to this longing because he misunderstood its true form. In retrospect of this crisis, Lewis points to the problem of his search when saying, “Its very existence presupposes that you desire not it but something other and outer” (p. 94; emphasis added). However, this point was not yet clear. So, through naiveté Lewis attempted to frame the longing as an experience that could be conjured simply from mood and thus a mere subjective experience. This further

frustrated Lewis because his rationalistic realism rejected any aspect beyond the physical senses: “Such, then, was my position: to care for almost nothing but the gods and the heroes, the garden of the Hesperides, Launcelot and the Grail, and to believe in nothing but atoms and evolution and military service. At times the strain was severe.” (p. 96).

Following his being wounded in World War I, a new friend of Lewis’s by the name of Owen Barfield instigated his turn from Atheism to Idealism. Such a position held sway because Lewis’s experiences of sehnsucht found purpose in relation to the philosophical Absolute and, in addition, was impersonal enough as to not affect his individuality: “The Absolute was ‘there,’ and that ‘there’ contained the reconciliation of all contraries, the transcendence of all finitude, the hidden glory which was the only perfectly real thing there is” (p. 115). Additionally, Lewis found himself influenced by

Alexander’s Space Time and Deity in which the experiences of contemplation and enjoyment are distinguished. Lewis, in turn, brought this new lens to his desire: “This discovery flashed a new light back on my whole life. I saw that all my waitings and watchings for Joy, all my vain hopes to find some mental content on which I could, so to speak, lay my finger and say, ‘This is it,’ had been a futile attempt to contemplate the enjoyed” (p. 120). Lewis had been searching in vain for the mere objects that brought about the desire rather than the Thing to which the desire was pointing. In other words, he finally understood that the items which brought on his longing like mythology, or nature, were “not the wave but the wave’s imprint on the sand” (p. 121). From this insight, Lewis realized that sehnsucht was a “road out of the self”… “unknown, undefined, desired” (p.

121). Such belief was not yet directed toward the Christian deity but instead a broad

Theism which emphasized an interconnectedness and identification with the Absolute bringing him “into harmony with universal Spirit” (p. 124).

Nevertheless, through the influence of Tolkien, Dyson, Barfield, and others, he ultimately found the Christian story to be “the summing up and actuality” of religion and philosophy (p. 129). Through belief in the Christian mythos, Lewis’s pursuit of Joy had come to an end. This is not to say, however, that such experiences ended but rather that he finally understood its proper telos which ultimately transformed its meaning: “When we are lost in the woods the sight of a signpost is a great matter. … The whole party gathers round and stares. But when we have found the road and are passing signposts every few miles, we shall not stop and stare. They will encourage us and we shall be grateful to the authority that set them up” (p. 130). In other words, the purpose of Lewis’s longing had been road markers in a quest ultimately leading to fulfillment through identification with the God of Christianity: “It was valuable only as a pointer to something other and outer” (p. 130).

Therefore, much of Lewis’s work, whether fiction, non-fiction, or discourses can be viewed through a particular lens wherein he attempts to stir the soul through myth and imagination ultimately in an effort to somehow enable his audience to experience sehnsucht which, in turn, leads to a continued search for the Other. Such a view is unique in relation to the aforementioned perspective of Levi-Strauss or Barthes concerning myths. For Lewis, myth and imagination open the door to a greater understanding of reality rather than a mere illusion. Lewis, in fact, once wrote, “If you are tired of the real landscape, look at it in a mirror. By putting bread, gold, horse, or the very roads into a

myth, we do not retreat from reality: we rediscover it” (Tolkien, 1954, p. 90). A similar strategy is evident as Lewis baptizes the daily experiences of his interlocutors in the

Christian mythos. Effective myths, therefore, enliven the plot of life thereby reconstructing one’s view of the world (Kilby, 1964).

The truly revolutionary view of the Inklings and Lewis’s myths is in its connection to language, Christianity, and belief. Whereas epic myths often speak of universal ideas dealing with humanity, origin, and sometimes tragedy, they are often only mere correspondences from the traits of the culture from which they emerge (Menzies,

2015). To Lewis, on the other hand, Christianity speaks of a myth that embodied reality thereby connecting the Christian myth to history and imagination. In one of Lewis’s

(1970) essays entitled Myth Became Fact he wrote: “Now as myth transcends thought, incarnation transcends myth. The heart of Christianity is a myth which is also a fact. The old myth of the dying god, without ceasing to be a myth, comes down from the heaven of legend and imagination to the earth of history” (p. 41). Such a notion does not discredit pre-existing myths but rather views them as prefiguring truths consummated in the

Christian story. Not only that, but the proper function of the myth as revealed, in this perspective, allows people to experience reality in a way unobtainable through sole rational observation, placing the two in tension rather than discord. In this same essay,

Lewis posited that experience and observation are never congruent. Instead, studious observation actually disconnects one from actual experience. Therefore, myths are less about observation and more so related to encounter: “It is only while receiving the myth as a story that you experience the principle concretely” (Lewis, 1970, p. 41). As in many

different aspects of life, when one desires a particular phenomenon of reality, s/he is then somehow impinged from experiencing it fully. Just as the Pevensies were unable to find

Narnia in the wardrobe when specifically looking for it, the experience of the myth occurs surprisingly.

In Meditation in a Toolshed, Lewis (1970) expounds these differences through two metaphors of observation: “looking along” and “looking at.” In this essay, he recounts an experience of entering a tool shed and shutting the door only to notice a ray of light. At first, he was able to see many things in the toolshed by “looking along” the ray. However, when he attempted to gain greater sight by looking straight at the light,

“the whole previous picture vanished” (1970, p. 212). To further illustrate this point,

Lewis offers an example of lovers: “A young man meets a girl. The whole world looks different when he sees her. Her voice reminds him of something he has been trying to remember all his life. … Now comes a scientist and describes this young man’s experience from the outside. For him it is all an affair of the young man’s genes and a recognized biological stimulus” (p. 212). Lewis’s argument is not in favor of simply one of the two methodologies. Instead, he notes that the method of “looking along” which is the experience of religion itself, has often been viewed with prejudice, and, therefore, brow beaten. Just as the phenomenon of love cannot be merely reduced to chemicals, the experience of religion also has a depth often missed when merely looked at. From this perspective, value is given to both religious experience and religious observation. It is this very relationship between rationalism and myths that Lewis perceives. The two are held in tension revealing aspects of reality unobtainable by the other, or specific keys to

different doors of the same reality. However, one is left to question Lewis’s perspective of the rhetorical functions of myths as they are constructed by a rhetor.

Using Mythopoeia as a Critical Lens

In considering the Inkling’s unique perspective of myths and how they function, further inquiry is needed to understand the actual interactive experience between myths and interlocutors in various forms of discourse in hopes of uncovering rhetorical strategies. From Lewis’s discussion of myth’s efficacious power, one is inevitably able to understand a type of influence that results from mythopoiesis in relation to the true myth, namely Christianity. Apparently, Tolkien, Lewis and other Inkling members set out to revitalize mythopoeism in light of the dampening effects of rationalism and the war.

Guite (2010) stated the purpose of The Inklings when noting: “They aimed to do so by using the power of poetic language in verse and prose to effect a ‘felt change of consciousness,’ to heighten and deepen our awareness by re-enchanting the disenchanted, by remythologizing a demythologized world” (p. 306). Therefore, mythopoeism is the lens through which this text will be thematically analyzed.

Rhetorically speaking, mythopoiesis involves the rhetor constructing myths— religious or modern—to influence via experience and the imagination. Kilby (1964) defined this influence when stating: “It has a quality of inevitability. In the contemplation of a great myth man attains realization” (p. 83). Therefore, Lewis’s perspective of myth becomes embedded in an interlocutor whether through hearing or reading. Starr (2002) discussed mythic discourse as its own type of “languaging” which directly connects to the view of language held by the linguist Owen Barfield (p. 200).

Barfield was a gestalt during his prime contending that myths were not primitive but instead a “language related to nature” preceding actual concrete language (Myers, 1994, p. 10). Such influences were noted by Lewis concerning the way in which mythic language worked on himself as he began to turn toward the Christian faith through discussions with Barfield, Tolkien, and Dyson.

‘Now what Dyson and Tolkien showed me,’ he went on to say, ‘was this: that if I

met the idea of sacrifice in a Pagan story I didn’t mind it at all…The reason was

that in Pagan stories I was prepared to feel the myth as profound and suggestive

of meanings beyond my grasp even tho’ I could not say in cold prose ‘what it

meant’. Now the story of Christ is simply a true myth: a myth working on us in

the same way as the others, but with this tremendous difference that it really

happened… (Green & Hooper, 1974, pp. 117-118)

In other words, Lewis distinguishes a particular form of reading/hearing—looking along—for myths therefore resulting in a specific rhetorical influence taking place (i.e. sehnsucht). In connection to this point, Starr (2002) contended that the form of sense that was relayed through the myth is not necessarily synonymous with logical sense, or the looking at methodology. Nevertheless, a certain mythic sense, or rationale, that is innately connected to pre-linguistic functions is distinguished in this setting ultimately resulting in a pre-modern experience. Hines (1986) connected such deep-seated cognitions to Jungian theory which posits the formulation of thought and experience through archetypical symbols: “The Jungian view is that these archetypes are basic organizing structures of this source of experience” (p. 27). Lewis finds such archetypes

through universal virtues and imagery of heaven and is, therefore, able to centralize their embodiment in the Christian mythos.

In connection to Aristotle’s work the Poetics, one is also able to perceive a form of mimetic activity occurring within the process of mythopoeia as the myth works on an audience. Ricoeur (1984) posited from the work of Aristotle a threefold process of mimesis wherein the plot of an external story is reconfigured into the life of the reader and/or listener so that he or she can imitate it. This process, also known as the narrative arc, hinges on the second stage of configuration. The stage of configuration emerges at the point in which a reader or listener interacts with the plot of a text: “With

[configuration] opens the kingdom of the as if” (Ricoeur, 1984, p. 64). Kilby (1964) agreed with such a position of mimesis but with different wording and the use of myth primarily in mind. Interestingly, the mimetic nature of myths is parallel with Plato’s perspective wherein all of nature was simply an imitative illusion of actual reality. The

Inklings and Lewis, however, transcend this point in viewing the creator, or poet, as embodying an overarching idea through myth thereby arousing the imagination for an ultimate end of enjoyment and satisfaction because of a deeper understanding and experience of objective reality through longing (Harby, 1984). Again, Kilby’s (1964) distinctions lead in this direction: “In lesser literature the reader follows a plot to its logical conclusion and then puts the book aside. In great myth, on the contrary, he is likely to feel a new world of meaning taking permanent root in him” (p. 81). Such an effect illustrates the syncretistic roles of mythopoiesis, mimesis, and inevitably sehnsucht by ascending to Lewis’s proposition of that other place. Therefore, the following thematic

analysis reveals such rhetorical phenomena underlying Lewis’s most famous sermon The

Weight of Glory. In summation of the proposed research, mythopoeic rhetoric conjures a longing for otherworldliness that challenges the way one views the world ultimately creating a deeper meaning of reality.

The Rhetoric of Glory

As a brief overview, Lewis begins the sermon by approaching the audience through a logical discussion of sehnsucht, or the inconsolable longing. After pointing to the existence of this transcendent yearning for elsewhere, he reframes reality through the

Christian mythos and, in so doing, reconstructs the way the audience views the world, ultimately as a means to deepen the meaning of their existence even in the face of war.

A Logos of Pathos

In this sermon, Lewis’s basic premise concerns sehnsucht, or the existence of natural desires and their ultimate connection to a supernatural telos. However, to ultimately persuade the audience, he needed them to first logically understand the existence and purpose of desires. Therefore, he uncovers the rhetorical problem by illustrating that current desires depicted within Christianity are a far cry from those of ancient believers. “We are told to deny ourselves and to take up our crosses…and nearly every description of what we shall ultimately find if we do so contains an appeal to desire” (1). Similarly, he depicts consummation as being the natural appeal to desires which can be exhibited in various offices like a lover rewarded in the act of marriage.

Such processes logically illustrate a natural end to desires (i.e. consummation) rather than a selfish reward which opposing “unbelievers” were arguing was the enticement of

religion (2). Although the two—proper and selfish rewards—may favor aesthetically, only one entails perseverance destined toward a distant, proper telos and ultimate satisfaction. Nevertheless, Lewis warns his audience that such processes are difficult like studying Greek poetry—an experience the students listening would have known—which through perseverance eventually becomes intensely joyful: “Of course, he gets it gradually; enjoyment creeps in upon the mere drudgery, and nobody could point to a day or an hour when the one ceased and the other began…indeed, the power of so desiring it is itself a preliminary reward” (2). To Lewis, these same natural characteristics of desires were an integral part of the Christian life and would have challenged the absence of joy in many of the student’s spiritual lives. Additionally, this emphasized the importance of heaven as being a natural reward of diligent faith rather than a mere enticement to those being convinced otherwise.

Therefore, Lewis redirects these notions to the mythical location of heaven as an archetypical depiction of consummation. In using this topos, Lewis reframes the process of obtaining natural desires to what he truly deems to be the ultimate end (i.e. telos) and satisfaction of all longings. However, to note the importance of progression, he theorizes that the telos of all rewards are, in part, “the activity itself in consummation” (2). In other words, proper desires are always motivated toward a destination, or telos, thereby affecting the process and experiences leading to it emphasizing the motivations of the students’ faith. Although heaven illustrates this notion on a larger scale than the example of learning Greek depicted before, they both are connected by the slow process and ultimate growth of desires: “…poetry replaces grammar, gospel replaces law, longing

transforms obedience, as gradually as the tide lifts a grounded ship” (3). Lewis then uses this notion to reveal that some simpler enjoyments can possibly impede one’s ability to progress into greater enjoyment such as English poetry to Greek grammar—another obvious experience and temptation of the students. By stating this, he is ultimately pointing to believers who need to progress into greater and more complex aspects of faith because of the joy and longing it will produce. Nevertheless, Lewis’s major purpose is to depict all desires brought about through natural objects and beauty as only symbolic and, therefore, misplaced if they are the sole focus absent of the ultimate telos. “If a transtemporal, transfinite good is our real destiny, then any other good on which our desire fixes must be in some degree fallacious, must bear at best only a symbolical relation to what will truly satisfy” (4). In other words, desires are illusory if left to themselves rather than inflaming a longing for consummation elsewhere—“a far-off country” (4).

Next, Lewis states his purpose clearly, inevitably connecting to this far-off country: “I am trying to rip open the inconsolable secret in each one of you...the secret we cannot hide and cannot tell, though we desire to do both” (5). From this statement,

Lewis desires to awaken this secret longing and counteract the spell of progressivism because the daily experiences of desire found in literature, poetry, and nature all bear greatly a similar but inexplicable connection to a distant reality. Yet progressives were reducing these experiences to simply “beauty” or “nostalgia,” while he was maintaining that such reductions did not “settle the matter,” directing the audience to a profounder importance (5). Therefore, to deepen the logical appeal, Lewis uniquely explained such a

hunger rationally in order to gain their trust. To do so, he questions the implications of a physical appetite only to later connect it to a spiritual one. “But surely a man’s hunger does prove that he comes of a race which repairs its body by eating and inhabits a world where eatable substances exist” (6). From this example, he is logically suggesting that an other-worldly craving implies another world. However, these experiences can mislead if people deem the natural objects through which the experience occurs as the telos when they are only messengers of something greater: “It only came through them, and what came through them was longing…news from a country we have never yet visited” (5).

By uncovering the logical implications of such phenomenon, the audience would have been enabled to hope, finally laying bare this desire.

Lewis then directly challenges progressive philosophies and “Creative Evolution” because they direct attention to an already obtained topos—Earth—thereby oppressing this longing for elsewhere. “They begin by trying to persuade you that earth can be made into heaven, thus giving a sop to your sense of exile in earth as it is” (5). However, Lewis rhetorically introduces death to challenge the ultimate end of a physical reality. Not only that, but he illustrates that even progressivism attempts to stir this longing by placing the utopia in a distant future. Nevertheless, the human desire for life to be greater than death is laid to rest if left under the spell of progressivism because of the eventual death of even the world creating a moment of choice for the audience. “Do what they will, then, we remain conscious of a desire which no natural happiness will satisfy” (6).

To amplify these notions, Lewis specifically noted the work of Shaw which climaxes in hope depicting the elan vital—or the vital force of life—“[as] capable of

surmounting all obstacles, perhaps even death.” (5). Nevertheless, the ultimate end portrayed by progressivism in avoiding the reality of death misleads and stifles this supernatural longing. By developing these inconsistencies, an opening for an alternate explanation was created. To capitalize, he uses the symbolism offered through the

Christian scriptures in hopes of inflaming the audiences’ exiled desire. In a pure rhetorical fashion, Lewis creatively stands on scripture’s argument in relation to the discussed phenomenon rather than its historic authority. “If Christianity could tell me no more of that far-off land than my own temperament led me to surmise already, then

Christianity would be no higher than myself” (7). In what follows, he uses scripture (i.e. mythos) to transpose the telos of this longing to its proper topos—a “far-off land”— through the process of mythopoeia thereby summoning the students into a new reality that offered hope and satisfaction to such a craving.

Mythopoiesis: Experience and the Christian Mythos

And he that overcometh…I will give him the morning star. (Rev. 2: 26, 28)

By framing the sermon with an announced text from scripture instead of reading from the Book of Common Prayer, Lewis was laying a mythopoeic foundation for what would come in the second half. Such a strategy also foreshadowed Lewis’s ultimate mythical destination—the morning star—after logically appealing to the audience.

Additionally, by uttering scripture from the text of Revelation, the audience was being prepped through mythic language in light of its apocalyptic genre. Students listening would have automatically thought of the physical morning star but been left to question

other possible spiritual meanings. Nevertheless, this powerful promise was folly deeming an impossibility possible.

Ultimately, the full force of Lewis’s myth-making begins as multiple promises of scripture are shown to be intertwined with mankind’s inconsolable secret. Notably, each promise has the telos of heaven in view but also expands beyond mere topos and into future ontology, thereby illustrating the creation of atmosphere surrounding such an imaginable world as seen in fairy tales and fictional works. “It is promised, firstly, that we shall be with Christ; secondly, that we shall be like Him; thirdly…that we shall have

‘glory’; fourthly, that we shall, in some sense, be fed…and, finally, that we shall have some sort of official position” (8). Lewis notes the imagery and symbolic nature of such promises and their climax in being with Christ. Nevertheless, Lewis’s strategy is to stoke the innate longing of the audience by provoking imaginative pictures of a far off land via mythos. In fact, all of the promises can be summed up by the first promise but the power inevitably comes from the imagery gained in the imagination: “The variation of the promises does not mean that anything other than God will be our ultimate bliss…[but through multiple symbols] a dozen changing images, correcting and relieving each other, are supplied” to the imagination and, therefore, the experience (8).

To explain glory, Lewis takes a negative stance against some historic believers like Aquinas who consider that fame or appreciation would be gained by God, but then expounds that such a longing for praise is natural in hierarchical relationships, such as parenting, illuminating the usefulness of scripture in connection with the inconsolable secret. “I suddenly remember that no one can enter heaven except as a child; and nothing

is so obvious in a child…as its great and undisguised pleasure in being praised…the specific pleasure of the inferior” (10). By transferring this specific earthly pleasure to heavenly consummation, the students were led to transpose these experiences in their own imagination. Such an act served to further awaken this longing and produce hope and joy within the imagination of each student. “And that is enough to raise our thoughts to what may happen when the redeemed soul…learns at last that she has pleased Him.”

(10).

For Lewis, the impact on the human soul by imagining its fulfillment in heaven with God is the weight of glory because: “[g]lory, as Christianity teaches me to hope for it, turns out to satisfy my original desire.” (11). To amplify these feelings, he further fuels this invoked experience with other sublime moments like watching the night sky to show the fleeting quality of nature: “You know what I mean. For a few minutes we have had the illusion of belonging to that world. Now we wake to find that it is no such thing” (11).

In other words, Lewis is positing an intrinsic sense that humanity is exiled because of the lack of fulfillment nature generates even at its most enjoyable moments. “The sense that in this universe we are treated as strangers, the longing to be acknowledged…” (11). The discussion of this sentiment only served to uncover individual experiences and offer meaning thereby creating both a different understanding of nature and reality as well as a deeper desire within each student “to bridge some chasm that yawns between [them] and reality” (11). Through this alternate myth, Lewis offered a unique hope wherein one could renegotiate existence and their longings to one where “the door on which we have been knocking all our lives will open at last” (11).

However, Lewis magnifies these longings by creating an understanding of hell through the lens of such yearnings. As scripture is referenced denoting the prime importance of a person being known by God, Lewis creates another image eternally void of finding satisfaction for such a hunger. “We can be left utterly and absolutely outside— repelled, exiled, estranged, finally and unspeakably ignored” (12). Such a strategy served to quickly oppress these longings by imagining a telos wherein eternally no enjoyment or satisfaction could ever find fulfillment. However, after having stifled the audience’s imagination, another image is offered that will ultimately provide eternal satisfaction.

“On the other hand, we can be called in, welcomed, received, acknowledged” (12).

Therefore, the provision offered to Lewis through the Christian myth not only encompasses such phenomenon but centralizes it in one’s relation to God and eternity.

Through this hermeneutical mirror, the Christian myth provided not just a different reality but “the truest index of [their] real situation” and a possible “healing of that old ache” (12).

In the final moments of the sermon, the morning star is brought back to the discussion through the understanding that glory also pertains to “luminosity” (13).

Because believers are symbolically depicted as being clothed in glorious light like the sun, Lewis segues into the symbolic meaning of the Revelation text. Lewis suggests that the morning star, in a way, has already been received if a person wakes up early enough, but yet a deeper desire exists unsatisfied. “We want…to bathe in it, to become part of it”

(13). From this point, Lewis depicts poems and fairy tales as prophetic by giving readers a glimpse of fulfillment as they demonstrate their own divinity by “people[ing] air and

earth and water with gods and goddesses…” not unlike the Christian God (13). Such perceptions ran congruent with scripture denoting that in this existence, people are actually at a distance from the greater reality. “At present we are on the outside of the world, the wrong side of the door. We discern the freshness and purity of morning, but they do not make us fresh and pure” (13). From this picture, hope is put forth as the overarching connection between the New Testament’s promises and such longings thereby acting as a rhetorical summons to believe in the myth as reality and its hope of future consummation. “Nature is only the image, the symbol; but it is the symbol

Scripture invites me to use. We are summoned to pass in through Nature, beyond her, into that splendor which she fitfully reflects” (13).

To use this moment as a climax in the imagination and further incitement of this inner longing, numerous images are provided of this far-off land. Even the archetypal

“tree of life” is depicted as providing sustenance that will curb and satisfy one’s longing for all eternity (13). To Lewis, the current pleasures and sustenance of food are the end result of God’s creative process like drinking water at the bottom of a mountain. Yet, upon one’s arrival to the far-off land, s/he shall be at the “fountain-head” and “drink joy from the fountain of joy” (13). The topography itself recedes as the overall emphasis becomes identification with the Christian Other. This rhetorical strategy allowed Lewis to enrapture the audiences’ imagination through the mirroring of heaven’s glory with natural experiences thereby inflaming the inconsolable secret and ultimately teaching the soul to hope for consummation through longing. Nevertheless, the myth also provided a narrative arc and mimetic meaning for the current context.

If the proposed myth is correct then all of nature is headed toward a certain telos consequentially affecting identity and action. This mimetic process becomes explicit as

Lewis states: “A cleft has opened in the pitiless walls of the world, and we are invited to follow our Great Captain inside” (14). Strategically, he chooses to help the audience transition smoothly by uncovering their new identity and a path of praxis to mimetic refiguration: “It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses…All day long we are, in some degree, helping each other to one or other of these destinations” (14). In other words, the identity and praxis summoned from this myth demands that one seeks to awaken this longing in others thereby guiding them to

God. Therefore, to take serious such a reality required love and humility toward others rather than a focus on self in light of who and what they are: “Next to the Blessed

Sacrament itself, your neighbor is the holiest object presented to your senses…for in him also Christ vere latitat—the glorifier and the glorified, Glory Himself, is truly hidden”

(14). Thus, through mythopoeism Lewis remythologized a hopeless reality to an existence wherein all people were divine and could affect eternity. For those in attendance, this powerful experience overshadowed the war encouraging a rhetorical mimetic motive to similarly awaken the inconsolable secret in others just as Lewis had done for them.

Implications and Conclusion

Through this sermon, one is offered a glimpse into a rhetoric of glory embodied in the lens of Lewisonian myth, mythopoeism, and sehnsucht. Such a unique strategy to reinvigorate reality during the war illustrates Lewis’s rhetorical mastery as well as the

depth of his perceived calling. From this analysis, Lewis is shown to masterfully depict myths and the existence of sehnsucht, or longing, as an innate rhetorical language. His ability to conjure hope and faith through these tools was unspeakably influential and point to an overlooked form of rhetoric connected to religious myth. If the Christian mythos-world inherently summons interlocutors through various means because of its mythopoetic nature, a new perspective and role of myths in the realm of rhetoric must begin to take place within scholarship, particularly in terms of religious communication.

As was shown, Lewis’s use of the mythopoeic transcends Nietzsche’s aesthetic (Whitson

& Poulakos, 1993) by grounding the mythic impulse to objective reality.

Apparently, in our so-called progress, a rhetorical language has been overlooked becoming rhetoric’s own mythical Achilles’ heel. Although much work has been put forth concerning myths, it seems the cultural milieu of deconstruction has won out, blitzing the hope of transcendence and leaving only futile attempts at consolation.

However, artifacts such as this sermon should give pause to rhetoricians who have overlooked the inherent world-making ability (i.e. poiesis) of Christian rhetoric even as it attaches itself to the epistemic (Whitson & Poulakos, 1993). If such deep longings exist

(i.e. sehnsucht) within the human soul, then rhetorical critics should seek various artifacts to better understand not only the discourse but the effect of hope and meaning it affords.

The current study extends uses of myth in Christian rhetoric stemming from the Inklings as well as C. S. Lewis by contrasting critical perspectives. Additionally, mythopoeic rhetoric is extended to the realm of speech and, more specifically, the sermonic as Lewis altered reality and gave meaning to his interlocutors through a distant topos. The

Inklings’ view of language and reality need further research to fully appreciate their contributions. Therefore, contemporary rhetors should mimetically imitate Lewis,

Tolkien, and others as they attempted to remythologize all that had been deconstructed in hopes of rediscovering rhetoric and language in a new way. To use a notion given by

Lewis (1970) immediately following a discussion concerning myth and Christianity: “If

God chooses to be mythopoeic—and is not the sky itself a myth—shall we [as rhetors] refuse to be mythopathic?” (p. 42). In this sermon, Lewis identifies the pervasiveness of sehnsucht and its ultimate telos in the Christian God rhetorically directing interlocutors toward consummation in belief.

In what follows, sehnsucht will be analyzed but from a different vantage point as it is utilized for sustenance in the Christian life. Utilizing the lens of sehnsucht gained through Lewis’s sermon, I rhetorically analyze the rhetoric of Christian Hedonism and its tenets in order to distinguish its rhetoricity in the context of Christian practice. Whereas the current chapter has illuminated the intricacies of sehnuscht’s leading one to belief in

Christianity, the following chapter establishes sehnsucht as a rhetorical motive and sustaining factor for the Christian life.

CHAPTER III - DESIRING GOD AND CHRISTIAN HEDONISM: AWAKENING AN

IMMANENT JOY

During the 1980s, America was in a shifting cultural landscape due to both secularization as well as the overall religiosity seen since the rise of the Moral Majority in the previous decade. Whereas many mainline protestant denominations were in decline, conservative Protestantism saw growth. Nevertheless, in 1983 John Piper delivered a strand of sermons to his Minnesota congregation that would later be published in a text called Desiring God: Meditations of a Christian Hedonist.

Throughout this text, he takes on the conceptual framework of conservative Christianity which, he argues, refuses to allow personal desire and pleasure to intertwine with moral duty. Using his own life, he demonstrates how transcendence in the Christian life was unobtainable in the current transcendent framework thus calling into question the process of rhetorical transcendence within modern evangelicalism (Betz, 1985). Such rhetorical argumentation seemingly challenges the framework handed down by Immanuel Kant during the Enlightenment by reinforcing a motive of immanence, namely joy, making eligible the path of religious transcendence otherwise halted. Such theoretical lens stems from Betz’s Theology of Hope wherein he wrestles with Burke’s hierarchical psychosis to demonstrate that in some contexts participants “seek to negate the negation of the incomplete now of their lives” (p. 31). Interestingly enough, Piper’s work spawned movements, conferences, and even further research into Christian hedonics (Rigney,

2016). In honor of a revised edition, an article entitled “Desiring God” underscores the influence of the book since its publication in 1986: “The overriding concern of this book is that in all of life God be glorified the way He himself has appointed. To that end this

book aims to persuade you that the chief end of man is to glorify God by enjoying Him forever” (Piper, 2011, para. 5). Others contend that Piper’s work and philosophical formulation of joy and the Christian faith have created a “thriving sub-culture around the term ‘Christian Hedonist’”; yet, in other circles, the term is surprisingly unknown

(“Welcome to our website,” para. 9). On the other hand, the work also has resulted in numerous discussions and deliberation regarding the pursuit of pleasure in the Christian faith. Needless to say, the philosophy and movement constituted by John Piper is unique and eligible for rhetorical scholars to mine in relation to evangelical Christianity and especially the process of rhetorical transcendence. More significantly, this chapter seeks to come to terms with the rhetorical characterization of joy within the particular confines of this growing philosophy called Christian Hedonism.

Claiming Lewis as a predecessor in the pursuit of joy, Christian Hedonism particularly utilizes sehnsucht in the process of transcendence through a formulation of joy as a sacred substance. Such argumentation is based in Lewis’s initial formulation of this particular longing: “We are half-hearted creatures fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in the slums because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased” (para. 1; emphasis added). The publication of this text unexpectedly emerged during the height of the Religious Right, in an attempt to refocus the attention of interlocutors to that which Piper viewed as missing in contemporary Christian practice, namely joy. In what follows, I examine John Piper’s seminal piece on Christian Hedonism and his efforts to transcend the lifeless

evangelicalism beginning in the 1980s by intertwining joy (i.e. immanence) with the pursuit of the Christian God (i.e. transcendence).

Rhetorical Transcendence and Religion

Transcendence is a unique term that has multiple meanings ranging from ontology to linguistics. Stott (2003) aptly defines transcendence as an aspect of religiosity when stating, “The quest for transcendence is the search for a Reality that is above and beyond the material order…There is something else, something more, something awesome, which no scientific instrument is able to apprehend or measure” (p. 104). From a religious standpoint, transcendence contends with how humans are innately drawn to identify with something Other seemingly beyond the material world. Betz (1985), however, claims that transcendence is a central facet of humanity in both religious and secular contexts when positing, “Man is bred for transcendence, and thus the human animal could be defined as homo transcendens, the ‘transcending being’” (p 29). For scholars researching religious rhetoric, the aspect of transcendence is unique in that it demonstrates a dual nature to one’s experiences in the world as myths, metaphors, and other types of language are employed to make sense of such otherness (Smith, 2009).

Therefore, the “Reality” posited by Stott (2003) is thus discussed in a range of ways in various religions like Christianity.

Inherent in the religious process of transcendence is the classical notion of mimesis, or the motive of imitation created through discourse which reveals dialectical opposites. In The Republic, Plato condemns mimesis because of its supposed deceptive nature and humanity’s inability to capture the true form, or essence, of a thing. Plato states: “‘This, then, was what I wished to have agreed upon when I said that poetry, and

in general the mimetic art, produces a product that is far removed from truth in the accomplishment of its task.’” (603b). To the current discussion, Plato’s form is important because it uncovers the process of rhetorical transcendence in the frame of dialectic.

Crusius (1986) states, “To have a rhetoric, one must obviously have distinctions, and distinctions are the affair of dialectic. … Clearly, dialectical substance is a condition for rhetoric, not rhetoric itself” (p. 29). In other words, Plato is decrying the work of artists who in painting seek to capture the true essence, but inevitably fall short in the practice thereby laying bare the dialectic. Of course, imitation was marred by Plato’s view wherein the physical world was defined negatively whereas the heavenly embodied perfection. Therefore, any form of physical imitation in itself was a deceptive illusion in relation to its eternal form because of its base being ultimately physical and thus unable to share consubstantiality, or sameness. With this understanding, Plato’s condemnation toward the aesthetic arts and their inherent reliance upon imitation places transcendence in the next life (i.e. the spiritual). Yet, one must question how imitation plays out in religious transcendence today.

In Imitating Paul: A Discourse of Power, Castelli (1991) adopts a platonic perspective of imitation positing that any attempt to praise mimesis, or imitation, induces an ideology toward sameness and, therefore, an established hierarchy because of the dialectical framing: “The paradox of imitation, articulated first in Plato’s indictment of the imitative arts, that imitation can never absolutely succeed, only underwrites further the asymmetry of the mimetic struggle and its fixation on the privileged and normative status of the model” (p. 22). From an ontological standpoint, mimesis underpins the process of transcendence for religious participants manifesting in a person’s “inability[,]

which creates hierarchy” (Castelli, 1991, p. 75). Similarly, Betz (1985) estimates the failure to transcend to be a “dialectical tension” that emerges through self-awareness often resulting in guilt due to the vision of what-one-wishes-to-be. Instead of transcendence, one is only left dissatisfied and lacking because the spiritual and the physical are disconnected in this life. Betz (1985), more succinctly, describes such feelings of discontent without hope when stating, “The rhetoric of transcendence is a courtship with the gods who prey on humans who, in their vanity, thirst for godliness” (p.

34). Such dissatisfaction is notable as issues of authenticity and disenchantment will be discussed later in relation to evangelicalism.

Burke’s Logology and Theology

In Burke’s (1970) major work The Rhetoric of Religion: A Study in Logology, he explicates the complexities of language through the help of Christian theology. In relation to transcendence, Burke also identifies platonic thought within the functions of words and their meanings, or the phenomena and the noumena. From this, he posits that all words in a sense have the possible function of being spiritualized, or transcending their form:

“There is a sense in which the word for tree ‘transcends’ the thing as thoroughly as does the Platonic idea of the tree’s perfect ‘archetype’ in heaven” (p. 10). Thus in language itself, the prime mover of theology, a hierarchy is revealed that helps constitute religiosity in the mere distinction between signifier and that which is signified through use of God-terms and a terministic compulsion thus “[prompting] us to act out our transcendence” (Betz, 1985, p. 30). From this perspective, Burke (1950) also posits humanity to be the transcending animal in light of language creating “a motive force calling man to transcend the ‘state of nature’” (p. 192). In light of this understanding of

language and anthropology, Burke (1970) theorizes that the Negative, or the Thou-Shalt-

Not, is the cornerstone upon which hierarchical foundations are laid. Whereas positive features of an image can be conceptually perceived, the ability of one to conceive of a specific negative is impossible. In other words, the negative only exists in terms of symbolicity; however, its effects are paramount resulting in moral judgment and thus hierarchies throughout society as mankind seeks to transcend and thus find perfection

(Hyde & McSpiritt, 2007).

With these theoretical perspectives in mind, Betz (1985) reframes the discussion towards rhetoric when stating, “Transcendence, as a rhetorical appeal, speaks to that part of a person who seeks to create a better self or a better world” (p. 28). Uniquely, Crusius

(1986) praises the ability of Christian rhetoric to overcome dialectic through substance and identification: “The hiatus between God and man, of course, was bridged in [the]

Word made flesh, which also fuses symbol and reference, because the Word was the creative act in the beginning, making everything that has been, is, and shall be one” (p.

29). However, not every path of transcendence in Christianity provides such rhetorical sustenance for participants. In fact, Piper (2011) posits that contemporary disillusionment within evangelical Christianity stems from Kantian philosophy because of its overemphasis on disinterested moral duty.

Kantian Philosophy and Hedonism

Feinberg and Feinberg (2010) define Kant’s deontology when saying “The key for deontological theories is that an act is right because it is one’s duty to do it.” (p. 35).

From Kant’s perspective, religious law provides a rational paradigm for both ontology and epistemology hinging on universal laws. In his Critique of Practical Reason, Kant

(1949) ties together the notions of happiness and morality intentionally removing the possibility of pursuing one’s inclinations deliberately within the system. Thus, Kant’s reframing of relations between morality and joy leave many religious participants in want because one must somehow become worthy of happiness through righteous living

(Hughes, 2004). Additionally, many conclude that this paradigm continues to create disillusionment within Christianity because it places the summum bonum (or the greatest good) in the next life while also demanding duty be absent of desire. For example,

Hughes (2004) attempts to synthesize Kant’s leap of faith demonstrating that the greatest leap is that of happiness and joy through such an ethic in light of mankind’s failings:

“[T]here is a leap from being worthy of happiness to actually being happy” (p. 69).

Dialectically speaking, the space for true joy resides in the same space as moral perfection (i.e. God) and is, therefore, impossible (Crusius, 1986).

From this research, the primary issue between mere deontology and spiritual transcendence is its reinforcing of the mimetic hierarchy and thus ontological discontent from what Betz (1985) calls “hierarchical psychosis” (p. 31). Such an experience is heard in the words of a None, so named because of the box chosen on surveys regarding religious affiliation:

I’m really open to it all—more than I let on. In fact, I want to feel good about

myself spiritually. But I don’t think I can ever measure up. When I really think

about God, all I feel is guilt and shame, so I stay away. It would be nice if there

was something in all of this that made me feel like I could—I don’t know—come

home? (White, 2014, p. 114; emphasis added)

It is for this reason that Allison (2011) pointedly contends that Kant’s ethic is a failure that stirs religious discontent: “This expectation does not, and cannot, happen during this earthly existence” (p. 205). As a result, a shift is needed to give sustenance to religious participants in the act of transcendence.

The Joy in Transcendence

Betz’s Theology of Hope

In the eighties, Betz (1985) offered a rhetorical perspective of transcendence to give hope to those hierarchies that inevitably result in psychosis. In one of the first steps of transcendence, researchers should locate a vision of the Ultimate, or a designated aim to which a person sets their desires. For example, “The Bible challenges its readers, ‘You shall have life and have it more abundantly’” (p. 31). As a result of the Ultimate vision, polarities are awakened thus enlivening the transcendent process: “In the Ultimate, one sees what-one-can-become and is drawn to it, while experiencing immediately what-one- is” (p. 32). With the dialectic in mind, Betz (1985) adds to the revelatory function of a hopeful transcendence by discussing immanence, or a sacramental incarnation of the

Ultimate vision that manifests: “As a sacrament, incarnation offers the audience a physical sign of the mystery and otherness of the Ultimate and supports the needs of the audience during their pilgrimage to the Ultimate” (p. 33). Perceivably, this substance can manifest in various ways. Its role and purpose, however, is to demonstrate a form of immanence that acts as a personal connection to the divine thereby providing sustenance and motivation in a participant’s pursuit of the Ultimate vision. Such rhetorical aspects of revelation are embodied symbolically in a redemptive practice, possibly in terms of salvation, by initially redefining what-is for the participant. However, the more apt

strategy of the rhetor is to centralize the vision of what-can-be in the future as a means to stir the transcendent process. Betz (1985) argues that often in this process a perspective of incongruity is utilized to challenge interlocutors to change normal modes of thinking:

“The ‘now’ is thrust into the ‘then,’ and vice versa. ‘Pain’ becomes ‘joy.’ ‘Weakness” becomes ‘strength.’ ‘Immanence’ becomes ‘transcendence.’” (p. 34). The lens offered by

Betz (1985) regarding transcendence and, more significantly, immanence offers guidance in illuminating the rhetorical logic of Piper’s work on Christian Hedonism: “The individual becomes aware of her/himself as a striver, possessing the seed of perfection which draws them beyond themselves to find themselves in their ‘truth,’ their ‘reality,’ their ‘transcendence.’” (p. 34). However, more discussion is needed to illuminate the current paradigm of transcendence within conservative evangelicalism.

In his Nichomachean Ethics, Aristotle portrays the aim of mankind toward happiness when stating, “Happiness then is the best, noblest, and most pleasant thing in the world.” (1.8). More significantly, Jonathan Edwards (n.d.) spoke of the affections being the seat which directs a person’s action or inaction when stating, “We see the world of mankind to be exceeding busy and active; and the affections are the springs of the motion: take away all love and hatred … and the world would be, in a great measure motionless and dead.” (p. 9). C. S. Lewis likewise alluded to the disillusionment with

Christianity because of an inability to connect pleasure, or eudaimonia, to religious belief. In essence, he claims to not know who to blame more—Kant or stoicism—but instead charges his listeners to break from such a philosophy. Horner (2009) explains that

Lewis’s perspective ultimately demonstrates that his contemporaries often maintained negative perceptions about happiness or pleasure thus dampening the whole. However, he

contends this has not been the primary position of historic Christianity but instead joy was intricately connected to arête: “Instead, they identified [eudaimonia or pleasure] with the summum bonum, the supreme or highest good, the objectively good life for humans” (para. 4). Nevertheless, through Kant’s influence, the moral act becomes corrupt as pleasure is found to be a motive: “Any motivation to seek joy or reward corrupts the act” ultimately holding participants hostage in the process of transcendence without sustenance (Piper, 1995, para. 7).

Christian Hedonism

In his work, Piper sets out to redefine and persuade Christian readers to view God as the ultimate telos of humanity and thus the greatest pleasure available in an effort to subvert the rhetorical problem of a Kantian framework. Uniquely, Piper’s philosophy is informed through several historic thinkers like C. S. Lewis and Jonathan Edwards. More significantly, he links the search for joy in God to Lewis’s notion of sehnsucht, or the inconsolable longing for a far-off country, thereby stretching the term even to evangelicalism:

But now we have seen that in fighting for the dignity and majesty and eternity of

the experience of Joy, Lewis is in fact fighting for the glory of God. Because, as

he says, fully to enjoy God is to glorify God. … And so the means by which God

brought Lewis to himself — the inconsolable longing for (the Joy in) what he

knew not — turns out to be the ultimate goal of the Christian life as well. (para.

36-37; emphasis added)

In other words, Piper contends that one’s desires and joy are a rhetorical motive directed at finding deeper satisfaction every day adding sustenance to the Christian faith.

Piper deals with the Kantian perspective in his work by taking full aim through the notion of worship: “But when worship is reduced to disinterested duty, it ceases to be worship.

For worship is a feast” (p. 98). Interestingly, to many conservative evangelicals, such notions seem foreign and even immoral because of the influence of Kant as will be discussed later.

As already discussed, Betz (1985) argues for the importance of an incarnational sacrament functioning as a shared substance of the Ultimate. This substance is uniquely revelatory as “it brings to the audience the cognitive ‘truths’ which sustain [the participant’s] need to know what is ‘beyond them’” thus offering aid on the spiritual journey (p. 33). Such lens will be beneficial to analyze Christian Hedonism due to the centralization of joy in subverting the Kantian ethic. As will be shown, viewing joy as the immanent substance for Christian Hedonists will lead to a greater understanding of rhetorical transcendence for scholars.

The End of the Twentieth Century

As for the twentieth century, there were numerous changes taking place in the social landscape. A major variation following the civil rights movement of the 1960s was the political mobilization of religious conservatives around the election of Jimmy Carter, the first “evangelical” elected to the American presidency to be followed by Ronald

Reagan in 1980. Carter was elected in 1976 only three years following the decision of

Roe. v. Wade regarding abortion. As a reactionary force, the rise of Jerry Falwell and the

Moral Majority and later the Christian Coalition led by Pat Robertson also gained acclaim hoping to not only stall growth of secularization but to influence American society in a different direction. Harding (1987) posits such efforts by said movements

were “evidence of a deeper movement within American fundamentalism to abandon its historic separatism from ‘the world’” (p. 167). Federal mandates by the U. S. Supreme

Court like Engel v. Vitale in 1962 led many religious participants to already believe, even a decade before Roe v. Wade, a cultural shift was taking place in America as school-led prayer was ushered out of schools and deemed unconstitutional (Starr, 2014). Years later, the culmination of these feelings was embodied in such movements as religious conservatives sought to oppose varying legislation, like the Equal Rights Amendment due to its being seen as an attack on the traditional family.

This growth in fundamentalism was heavily influenced by a centralized focused on morality and values; nevertheless, in many ways, it only resulted in a negative perspective toward those of conservative Christianity who seemingly, more often than not, found strength through political opposition and a rhetoric of crisis rather than faith

(Edwards, 2015). Conservative Christians, and especially evangelicals, fell to such paranoia and crazed fanaticism and at great loss because they perceived political mobilization as a means to an end to capitalize in the ensuing cultural wars (Moore,

2015). Prophetic fanaticism, especially during the Cold War, only encouraged these actions as writers and preachers attempted to describe the end-times in forms of nuclear fallout and the anti-Christ: “In the secular world, the possibility of thermonuclear war tended to be either psychologically numbing or politically energizing, as people transformed anxiety into action” (Boyer, 1992, p. 136).

The Eighties

Of course, the 1980s was a decade reaching its own climax in political and social occurrences. To many in America, it can be seen as a decade of tragedy wherein an

assassination attempt was thwarted against President Reagan, the Challenger exploded live on national television while millions of children watched, and the AIDS epidemic claimed numerous lives. Yet, there were great technological advances emerging. For instance, IBM created its first computer, mobile phones were in vogue, CNN and MTV were created, and Reagan announced the end of the Cold War and thus the later collapse of the Berlin wall in 1989 (Mitchell, 2017). Yet, despite overall economic growth and progress in areas of health and life expectancy, the level of happiness and satisfaction declined rather than progressed in the late twentieth century (Surowiecki, 2005).

Thomson (1992) suggests after analyzing correlations between the 1950s and 1980s that a change from social conformity to privatism emerged in which the individual self was not static but ever-changing. The study also denotes that ideas of self-help during the 1980s primarily concerning happiness tended to centralize interpersonal relationships and a refusal to be inauthentic. It is interesting to view such notions in connection to the entrenchment of conservative fundamentalists as well as the growing secularization of culture emerging during that time.

To make matters far more complex, many scholars began questioning the growing insistence on secularization due to modernity’s perceived end. For instance, Berger

(1992) in A Far Glory contrasts the resulting assumptions of modernity with overwhelming growth in religious fundamentalism: “If one looks for revitalizing religious movements on a global scale, two stand out. One is Muslim, the other

Evangelical Protestant. They have some psychological similarities, but their social consequences and respective relations to modernization are very different” (p. 33). In essence, Berger (1992) seeks through this particular work, among others, to illustrate that

the assumptions of secularization theory in relation to modernity have utterly failed. Such assumptions arguably stem from the Enlightenment due to progress; however, Berger

(1999) adamantly siphons these arguments of any power by pointing to the overwhelming growth of religiosity in some areas of the world despite modernization: “The difficult-to- understand phenomenon is not Iranian mullahs but American university professors—it might be worth a multi-million-dollar project to try to explain that!” (p. 2). However, this does not mean that modernity has not influenced religiosity in some ways like in the presumption that religion is merely a preference, or opinion, in the midst of pluralism

(Berger, 1992). The greatest influence of modernity can actually be seen in the losses of mainline Protestant groups since the 1960s. For instance, Noll (2002) states, “Since 1960

(to 1997)…the Presbyterian Church (USA) has suffered a net decline of about 500,000; the Episcopal Church a decline of 700,000; The United Church of Christ…a decline of

900,000…” (p. 177). This is not to say, however, that conservative evangelicalism has not dealt with its own growing forms of disenchantment due to cultural change.

Conservative Evangelicalism in the New Age

Stemming from the Protestant Reformation of the 16th century, evangelicalism has been a movement wholly concerned with orthodoxy and thus theology (Hunter,

1987). Yet, there have been disparaging conflicts with the movement since the dawn of the early 20th century dealing with the centrality of the Bible as the Word of God. What has come to be known as the Modernists and Fundamentalists controversy distinguished the two opposing sides, especially following the Scopes Monkey trial of 1925. For fundamentalists, biblical literalism was a main thrust against the scientific approach.

During this time, J. Gresham Machen (1923) wrote an important work entitled

Christianity & Liberalism calling for greater attention of Christians toward the influences of scientific culture. These trends ultimately resulted in a split between more conservative and liberal Protestants due to their inability to find common ground during the 1920s and

1930s. Similarly, during the 1970s, the inerrancy controversy emerged regarding biblical infallibility further, splitting the movement along political lines (Schafer, 2011).

Research regarding the rhetoric of conservative evangelicals has corresponded with such political transitions to show a plethora of strategies. For instance, Edwards

(2015) contends that fundamentalist rhetoric, especially during the rise of the moral majority, took on a more militaristic tone wherein converts were objects to be caught rather than lost souls to be persuaded. Harding (1987) discusses the rhetoric of conversion which is not simply a strategy to be employed, but is, in fact, the methodology in which others are changed and assimilated to such belief: “Fundamental Baptist witnessing is not just a monologue that constitutes its speaker as a culturally specific person; it is also a dialogue that reconstitutes its listeners” (p. 167). Of course, the “born- again” mentality is central in relation to Christian belief stemming from a biblical passage and thus demonstrates a world-shifting mentality once one believes. Harding, in fact, claims that after her conversation with a Baptist minister, Reverend Cantrell, she found herself to have been converted as she drove home: “Listening to the gospel enables you to experience belief, as it were, vicariously” (p. 179). The theme of such research denotes an absence of will in relation to how earlier evangelistic rhetoric is employed as well as how it is received. Such aggressive rhetorical strategies stemming from the intertwining of political mobilization and religious belief has had detrimental effects (Edwards, 2015). Christian rhetoric, however, has not always had such

characterization. Instead, Sullivan (1992) claims that originally Christians possessed a form of alethiac rhetoric that “does not demand submission” … “its aim is not lower than the mind; rather it is suprarational rhetoric that goes beyond the rational capacity to confront an individual’s being with the radiance of Being” (p. 329).

Interestingly, a postmodern divide later took place among evangelicals in the mid-

1990s as members sensed a lack of authenticity. This particular split was called the

Emergent Church. Bielo (2011), in listening to the stories of leaders and participants, ultimately estimated that their de-conversion narratives carried a poignant difference from normal religious narratives: “Emergent Evangelicals do not narrate their sense of self through the kind of conversion genre we have come to expect from conservative

Protestants. Theirs is a narrative of deconversion: a narrative of critique, of contrast, of rethinking, of recovery.” (p. 46). Of the primary themes emerging from said stories, a reclaiming of authenticity stands out among the rest. The technological savviness of many mega-churches is also a major critique revealing a type of illusion of authenticity which must be resisted due to the corporate mindset. Bielo (2011) reveals numerous themes regarding evangelicalism from these deconversion narratives, such as consumer mentality, priority of growth rather than community, a rigidity, and a motivation of self- interest. From this research, it becomes evident that many with evangelicalism are finding the paradigm to be lacking. Interestingly, the search for authenticity, along with the critique of the consumer mentality, seems related to Piper’s own estimation. Such a pursuit for greater authenticity resulted in a new movement in contrast with the more conservative frame and, therefore, should give greater weight to the research of Christian

Hedonism.

Although the Emerging Church lost much of its stamina only a decade after its inception, conservative evangelicals continue facing issues of disenchantment. With the overwhelming support of Donald Trump in the 2016 presidential election, they have come under political fire being viewed as moral hypocrites who embrace someone marred by immorality simply as a means to regain and maintain political power. Yet, these actions, not unlike the political actions of the 1970s and 1980s, are not without effect. For instance, much focus has turned toward a growing religious collection called the Nones. Of the reasons attributed to leaving evangelicalism are a growing dislike of and disenchantment with organized religion. Lipka (2016) importantly notes that 78% of

Nones explain a loss of childhood religion ranging from “Religion is the opiate of the people” to “I don’t have a particular religion because I am open-minded and I don’t think there is one particular religion that is right or wrong.” Uniquely, conservatives can tout numerical growth over liberal Protestants throughout the conflicts of the twentieth century; however, even the Southern Baptist Convention, the largest conservative evangelical denomination, is at a point of stagnation. In Christianity Today, Smietana

(2015) states, “With just under 15.5 million members, the Southern Baptist Convention

(SBC) remains the largest Protestant group in the United States. But it has lost about

800,000 members since 2003, when membership peaked at about 16.3 million (para. 2).

As already alluded to, the mingling of politics and the Christian faith emerging in the midst of growing political strife has led to greater disillusionment within conservative evangelicalism.

The Moral Dilemma

In A Secular Age, Charles Taylor (2007) contends that one of the major issues ailing conservative evangelicals is the overemphasis on morality which may “end up undercutting faith” as it has in the past (p. 452). Taylor explains how the American Great

Awakenings served to establish the personal nature of conversion in Protestant

Christendom through the crystallization of a moral order in the midst of social disorder despite the confluence of numerous denominations. A very interesting point regarding evangelical Christianity and modernity emerges within Taylor’s (2007) work in relation to the original tenets of the Reformation like sinfulness, grace, and the possible lasting effect of the recent transition to the overconfidence in the moral self:

It does indeed, seem that a faith which was originally connected with a sense of

one’s own powerlessness unaided to bring order to one’s life, contrasted with the

efficacy of grace to do this, will lose some of its relevance and convincing power

if/when the required disciplines become second nature, and instead of feeling

powerless, one feels in control of one’s life. (Taylor, 2007, p. 452)

However, in Kant’s philosophy, one must seemingly gain control of his or her moral actions thus becoming more confident in one’s self.

In light of the growing shift in culture and trends of those leaving evangelicalism,

Christian belief even among active participants is more naïve than ever. Russell Moore

(2015) laments past carnivalistic occurrences of the Christian Right and the influence of figures like Jimmy Swaggart and Jerry Falwell positing, “The emphasis on ‘values’ over gospel exported throughout the nation some of the worst aspects of southern

Christendom. Christianity became a totem to secure a happy marriage, a successful

career, well-behaved children—all that, and eternal life too. Such a Christianity doesn’t have a Galilean accent, but rather the studied clip of a telemarketer” (p. 30). Recent polling by the Pew Research Center only helps confirm that Millennials are “unattached” to organized religion calling into question the effect of the current cultural epoch and recent trends of politicized evangelical Christianity (“Millennials in adulthood,” 2014, para. 1). Ultimately, such beliefs demonstrate a major fracture in evangelicalism and quite possibly a slow death of faith for many participants. Piper’s own story uniquely details a moment of disenchantment wherein he shares a personal crisis between joy and morality.

John Piper: The Desire Factory

John Piper, the son of an evangelist, became pastor of Bethlehem Baptist Church in Minneapolis, Minnesota in 1980. In addition to his pastoral work, Piper has written numerous books, such as Don’t Waste Your Life, What Jesus Demands from the World, and A Peculiar Glory. He attended seminary at Fuller Theological Seminary and then later obtained his doctorate from Ludwig Maximillian University in Munich, Germany.

In addition to pastoral work, he acted as chancellor for Bethlehem College in Minnesota until his recent retirement.

In recent years, Piper has become a household name within conservative evangelicalism due to his formulation of Christian Hedonism and critique of proponents of the prosperity gospel. However, critiques have also been given against Piper relating both to his formulation of hedonism as well as his being from the reformed Calvinistic tradition. Nevertheless, Piper’s rhetoric primarily is aimed at Christian participants in an effort to centralize biblical theology and thus affect faith and praxis. His rhetorical style,

at times, also incorporates atheists and those of other faiths who may disagree with

Christian tenets. Throughout his work, Piper often reminisces on the deep inconsistencies of his early religious life in evangelicalism due to an overarching moralistic and legalist attitude. In one sermon, he contends that his urge to worship God seemed to simultaneously mean his joy and desires must be put aside. Nevertheless, introspectively he began to realize the existence of a longing for something greater: “When I pondered who I was, at the bottom of my being, I was a wanter, a desirer, a craver. My heart was— and is—a desire factory” (para. 9). Yet, he did not connect his religious faith to joy until realizing that “Christianity is not a religion of will power and decisions to do things we don’t want to do. It is a supernatural new birth of the human heart to want God more.”

(para. 25).

In Desiring God, Piper (2011) leads readers down the same path he experienced in order to guide them to the experience of this sacred substance. The quest began by a reoccurring theme found throughout many Christian thinkers. Piper initially discovered that Blaise Pascal in his famous Pensees points to happiness as being the telos of all human action when stating, “All men seek happiness. This is without exception. … This is the motive of every action of every man, even of those who hang themselves” (p. 19).

Pascal continues with the notion of happiness by linking it to the inner longings of mankind and a satisfaction that can only be found in God himself:

There once was in man a true happiness of which now remain to him only the

mark and empty trace, which he in vain tries to fill from all his surroundings,

seeking from things absent the help he does not obtain in things present. But these

are all inadequate, because the infinite abyss can only be filled by an infinite and

immutable object, that is to say, only by God Himself. (p. 21)

Although reading Pascal was an important moment, it was only amplified as Piper discovered C. S. Lewis’s famous sermon The Weight of Glory. From this sermon and other writings of Lewis, Piper found that seeking one’s own joy should not be considered immoral but instead the most important pursuit: “It is not a bad thing to desire our own good. In fact, the great problem of human beings is that they are far too easily pleased”

(p. 20). Lewis, in fact, calls God the “all-satisfying Object” further shedding light on the connections between the worshipping heart and joy. Lastly, the work of Jonathan

Edwards, a preacher and theologian during the American Great Awakenings, helped

Piper to finally synthesize what he would later formulate as Christian Hedonism.

Edwards succinctly argues that one’s glory is given the greatest honor only after someone revels in it, especially the glory of God. Through this idea, Piper encountered a revelation of sorts: “My old effort to achieve worship with no self-interest in it proved to be a contradiction in terms. God is not worshiped where He is not treasured and enjoyed.

Praise is not an alternative to joy, but the expression of joy” (p. 22). To say the least,

Piper has become a unique voice in the midst of both evangelicalism and the shifting cultural epoch. As will be discussed, much of his discourse is directed toward participants within conservative evangelicalism.

Other rhetorical barriers include use of the term hedonism. Due to the term’s baggage, Piper has had to explain the implications of his philosophy and defend the title.

Many critiques of Christian Hedonism tend to be a mischaracterization wherein pleasure, like ancient Hedonism, is viewed as being the ultimate end rather than God. Instead,

Piper has offered countless rebuttals in an effort to clarify the interconnected nature of joy and seeing God as the ultimate end. For instance, he posits, “In other words, nowhere do I say: An act is right because it brings pleasure. … My aim is to own up to the amazing, and largely neglected, fact that some dimension of joy is moral duty in all true worship and all virtuous acts” (Piper, 2011, p. 24).

Structurally speaking, Piper begins the text by telling his own story in an effort to conceptualize the search for joy in one’s own life and how it connects to the Christian pursuit. Following this point, the aspect of conversion emerges and is shown to embody the awakening of a new craving for God’s glory which can only deepen as one grows spiritually. To aid interlocutors, Piper then demonstrates the Christian Hedonist’s instruments of joy. For example, scripture is strongly embedded in the text as a tool to kindle one’s joy. The text comes to a culmination as Piper utilizes the last two sections to discuss Christian missions and martyrdom. Interestingly, potency is added to the overall rhetorical argumentation through numerous stories of missionaries and Christian participants who somehow claim an unspeakable joy even in the face of unspeakable suffering. From this perspective, Piper employs a powerful strategy that enables interlocutors to come to terms with one’s own joy and the Christian faith, rediscover foundational Christian rituals and their role in kindling said joy, and ultimately a vision for those willing to lose everything.

Christian Hedonics: Awakening the Transcendent Vision

In Desiring God, Piper is particularly engaging conservative evangelicals and other Christian participants considering it was first a collection of sermons to his

Minnesotan congregation. The work itself is more so a critique against the half- heartedness and malaise of Christian culture, particularly in America, as a means to awaken interlocutors to belief and thus provide a new motive of joy for praxis. These ideas are confirmed as Piper (2011) discusses one of the main tenets of Protestant

Christianity which is the call to belief in Christ: “Someone may ask, ‘If your aim is conversion, why don’t you just use the straightforward, biblical command ‘Believe in the

Lord Jesus, and you will be saved’ (Acts 16:31)? … The world abounds with millions of unconverted people who say they believe in Jesus’” (pp. 54-55). In other words, Piper seeks to add depth to faith which has become nothing more than a cultural/political value emptied of meaning. Instead, true Christian faith encompasses the desires: “The key is:

Do you treasure Him more than everything? Converts to Christian Hedonism say with

Paul, ‘I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord’ (Philippians 3:8)” (p. 55). Therefore, the primary audience of this particular work are those who culturally identify as Christian.

Joy and Delight: What-is and What-is-to-be

The Ultimate vision within Christian Hedonism begins with a dialectical tension and thus a reformulation of being, or Betz’s (1985) what-is, for interlocutors in relation to

God. Significantly, the Ultimate vision of God is given which gives rise to mankind’s polarities: “The chief end of God is to glorify God and enjoy Himself forever” (p. 31). To inoculate against arguments regarding egomania, Piper illustrates the meaning of this

point by noting how God’s glorification as the Ultimate through joy sets a path for all created objects to finding glory in him as he seeks such glory for himself. By envisioning the Ultimate with a formula of joy, the overflow colors the what-is for humanity in such a way as to encompass praise as a God-term in the process of transcendence: “When He does all things ‘for the praise of His glory,’ He preserves for us and offers to us the only thing in all the world that can satisfy our longings” (p. 49). Through this lens, Piper strategically uses C. S. Lewis’s argumentation in his work The Four Loves to demonstrate the role of praise in everyday life and its relationship to the object of delight:

“I had not noticed either that just as men spontaneously praise whatever they value, so they spontaneously urge us to join them in praising it: ‘Isn’t she lovely? Wasn’t it glorious? Don’t you think that magnificent?’ … The praise not merely expresses but completes the enjoyment; it is its appointed consummation” (p. 49). In other words, one’s present joy, or delight in natural objects are a foreshadowing of humanity’s much larger state with God. Therefore, praise is a partaking of the divine—an act of consummation— in the now, while at the same time depicting the Ultimate end of the transcendent process.

Thus, through a reshaping of such philosophical and theological bases, Piper is influencing interlocutors’ present state, or the what-is, in relation to their Ultimate vision, namely what-is-to-be, as a means to awaken the dialectical tension by revealing humanity’s essence (Betz, 1985).

Next, he clarifies that the awakening of joy and its cravings take place specifically in the process of conversion thus making the discussion more personal to readers. To do so, Piper critiques the apathy in relation to proposed Christian belief by demonstrating a need for delight to replace the term believe revealing Piper’s desired shift in

evangelicalism: “God’s quest to be glorified and our quest to be satisfied reach their goal in this one experience: our delight in God, which overflows in praise” (p. 53). Through a jeremiadic structure, Piper more specifically lays out the biblical story to explain the

Christian Hedonist’s view of the world giving further ground to a person’s present essence. Such premises encompass humanity’s relationship to God and sinful failure as depicted in scripture thus resulting in alienation and condemnation. The argument shifts, however, as a discussion of Christ is shown as a means of mercy to those who through faith will believe in Christ’s sacrifice and repent. More significantly, Piper frames this metanarrative to illustrate joy’s relationship to ancient Christianity. In Jesus’s parable of the hidden treasure, a man stumbles upon treasure in a field, which is so marvelous that it leads him to sell all of his possessions in order to purchase said field because its value is greater than any other possessions. The story, in fact, leads readers to Piper’s conclusion unknowingly.

Uniquely, this parable holistically frames the process of transcendence demonstrating both polarities of humanity and God; while, at the same time illustrating the consummation of the transcendent process: “The kingdom of heaven is the abode of the King. The longing to be there is not the longing for heavenly real estate, but for camaraderie with the King. The treasure in the field is the fellowship of God in Christ”

(p. 70). However, Piper emphasizes that true conversion consists of a faith that finds God to be the invaluable treasure that overshadows all other desires. Piper’s relegation of materialism in this moment demonstrates an attempt to redirect and challenge readers toward the Ultimate vision of Hedonism, namely God. “Surely the reward we long for is the glory of God Himself and the perfected companionship of Christ. …It implies that

beneath and behind and in the act of faith that pleases God, a new taste has been created—a taste for the glory of God and the beauty of Christ. Behold, a kind of joy has been born!” (p. 71). Such argumentation strengthens the initial discussion of transcendence by distinguishing true conversion through the lens of praise thus attempting to alienate readers from their current state (Betz, 1985). From this perspective, immanence emerges through the substance of joy. Such joy is initial in the birth of a

Christian Hedonist setting interlocutors on a sustainable path toward God in light of its incarnational features. Likewise, in this definition those who claim belief but lack delight are found to be deficient and inevitably challenged to remedy the situation. Such rebirth is totalizing through its description as a miracle of sorts resulting in the emergence of the sacred substance following faith: “It was like the opening of the eyes of the blind during the golden dawn. First the stunned silence before the unspeakable beauty of holiness.

Then the shock and terror that we had actually loved the darkness. Then the settling stillness of joy that this is the soul’s end” (p. 71; emphasis added). Thus, at the moment of faith for a Christian Hedonist, the dialectical tension emerges with the immanent substance of joy at the center. For those without, Piper’s rhetoric served to alienate and thus stoke movement toward faith.

Worship: Understanding the Sacred Substance of Joy

Re-Defining the Person: Logic and Emotion

Within evangelicalism, there have been moments of disconnect between the roles of emotion and logic with one usually emerging as primary. For Piper, “Worship must engage emotions and thought” (p. 81). Worship regarded in this particular way is the actions of a person as he or she finds their way on the path of transcendence. To illustrate

this point, he first discusses how humans are a rarity in creation because they of all created things can worship willingly. Nevertheless, such willingness must involve the whole person especially his or her desires rather than simply rationale. “The engagement of the heart in worship is the coming alive of the feelings and emotions and affections of the heart” (p. 86). Such engagement encompasses the longing for the human heart to find itself in God which was stifled for many readers due to Kant’s philosophy, the most potent force against Christian Hedonism.

To Kant, moral actions are corrupted if performed in relation to another end. In fact, Piper explicitly discusses Kant and the drastic affect such a philosophy has had on

Christianity. Just as Lewis in The Weight of Glory suspects Kant to be the cause of joylessness among his contemporaries, Piper’s critique begins taking shape when arguing:

For many, Christianity has become the grinding out of general doctrinal laws

from collections of biblical facts. But childlike wonder and awe have died. The

scenery and poetry and music of the majesty of God have dried up like a forgotten

peach at the back of the refrigerator. And the irony is that we have aided and

abetted the desiccation by telling people they ought not seek their own pleasure,

especially in worship. We have implied in a thousand ways that the virtue of an

act diminishes the degree you enjoy doing it and that doing something because it

yields happiness is bad. The notion hangs like a gas in the Christian atmosphere.

(p. 100; emphasis added).

However, this perspective is contrasted by demonstrating the implications of Christian

Hedonism throughout the Christian scriptures: “Every Sunday morning at 11 A.M.,

Hebrews 11:6 enters combat with Immanuel Kant. ‘Without faith it is impossible to please [God], for whoever would draw near to God must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him.’ … Worship is the feast of the Christian Hedonism” (pp.

101-102).

From this perspective, Piper uses this moment to beckon interlocutors to question the engagement or lack thereof of their affections:

There is a connection between the feelings of the soul and the sensations of the

body. This is owing, Edwards says, to ‘the laws of union which the Creator has

fixed between the soul and the body.’ … The crying and the trembling are in

themselves spiritually insignificant. The train can run without them. That’s the

truth in the slogan. But the gratitude and the fear are not optional in the Christian

life. (p. 89)

In other words, faith affects the whole person rather than relegating one aspect over the other. Through this lens, to be engaged religiously with no effect on the emotions thus calls into question the person’s state. To inoculate against competitive thoughts, Piper distinguishes between calculated emotions and those that are an end in themselves by reminiscing on a call that he received concerning his father’s death in a car wreck. The grief itself was overwhelming but organic thereby serving a valid and essential purpose.

From this point, he argues, “All genuine emotion is an end in itself. … But in the moment of authentic emotion, the calculation vanishes. We are transported (perhaps only for seconds) above the reasoning work of the mind, and we experience feeling without reference to logical or practical implications” (p. 92). He does not mean that emotions are the sole end but rather that such emotions are organic in approaching God with a needy

posture. From this picture, Piper contends that interlocutors misunderstand their being and, more significantly, worship if their aim is anything less.

Kantian Philosophy: A Scandal to Transcendent Joy

By this point, the foundation for the necessity of worship and joy were laid as a means to face the greatest rhetorical problem for interlocutors, namely Immanuel Kant’s philosophy which posits emotions to be submoral. In approaching this point, Piper points to Charles Darwin’s response toward his own life having focused solely on rationality for so long, he had lost his taste for higher things: “The loss of these tastes is a loss of happiness, and may possibly be injurious to the intellect, and more probably to the moral character, by enfeebling the emotional part of our nature” (p. 100). In other words,

Darwin realized that utilizing only logic without the aid of the emotions was a detriment to his being. Next, Piper relies on Ayn Rand’s argumentation wherein she laments Kant’s philosophy because, as was discovered for Darwin, in reducing the emotions, the person’s being is actually reduced. If this is true, then its effects on evangelicalism is paramount due to the pervasiveness of Kant’s philosophy: “It was tragic for her, and it is tragic for the church, that this notion—that the pursuit of joy is submoral, if not immoral—pervades the air of Christendom” (p. 101). By utilizing a powerful metaphor from Jonathan Edwards regarding heat and light, Piper strengthens this point as a means to show interlocutors that emotions and logic inherently must work together: “Therefore

Christian Hedonism is passionately opposed to all attempts to drive a wedge between deep thought and deep feeling” (p. 104). Ultimately, the reformulation of worship with emotions in mind is essential to Piper’s overall argument because of the indispensable nature of the sacred substance of joy in relation to the pursuit of God (i.e. transcendence).

However, in the Kantian philosophy, such joy is unworthy and, in fact, immoral.

Therefore, emotions and thus joy are essential in the transcendent process of Christian

Hedonism because the motive is congruent to God’s ultimate aim for delight. In essence, those who approach God must approach him for joy (Heb. 11:6). “Our joy is incomplete if we can only stand outside beholding the glory of God, but are not allowed to share it”

(p. 139).

With this view of the emotions and, more significantly, joy, Piper continues to demonstrate how this substance aids participants as a motive for religious action. To him, in light of the grace and joy offered in the conversion experience, one is motivated to extend such grace to others whether through loss, suffering, and even pain: “It is first a deeply satisfying experience of the fullness of God’s grace, and then a doubly satisfying experience of sharing that grace with another person” (p. 120). This point is only amplified as Piper challenges interlocutors by redefining love as an overflow of the joy and grace received to others in action. Interestingly, such actions are depicted in biblical characters, like Paul, Moses, and Jesus wherein their actions aimed ultimately for more joy. Yet, Piper reveals that contemporary interlocutors do not believe the same: “We do not believe Jesus when He says there is more blessedness, more joy, more lasting pleasure in a life devoted to helping others than there is in a life devoted to our material comfort” (p. 129). Such a point served only to further call into question the essence of interlocutors awakening them to the dialectical tension. To Piper, all moral actions are directly related to the joy to be received in the act’s consummation, a microcosm of sorts of the meta-transcendent process: “What I mean by ‘organically related’ is this: Any act of love we choose for the sake of a holy reward must compel us because we see in that

act the moral traits of the promised reward” (p. 137). In other words, the sacred substance of joy is intricately woven into the action itself thereby beckoning participants to act for greater joy. The greatest example used to demonstrate this point is in the crucifixion of

Christ himself in which he posits that, “The greatest labor of love that ever happened was possible because Jesus pursued the greatest imaginable joy, namely, the joy of being exalted to God’s right hand in the assembly of a redeemed people: ‘For the joy that was set before him [He] endured the cross!’” (p. 132). For Betz (1985), this is a pious linkage to calm the apprehension toward this new philosophy. Piper’s gentle foreshadowing of joy’s relation to pain and suffering is to prepare the audience for the major discussion to emerge later in the text. Nevertheless, Piper’s logic demonstrates an interconnectivity between the central nature of joy in the process of transcendence for the Christian life.

Not only is it a symbol of connection with the Ultimate vision in the here and now, but, more significantly, it demonstrates the perspective of incongruity posited by Betz (1985) as the immanent substance subsumes the act of transcendence: “When the object of delight is moral beauty, the longing to behold is inseparable from the longing to be” (p.

139; emphasis added).

Tools for Joy: Incarnation and Revelation in the Process of Transcendence

Although joy is the primary immanent sacred substance, Piper points to other tools for kindling said joy, thus demonstrating secondary aspects of Betz’s (1985) incarnational features: “As a sacrament, incarnation offers the audience a physical sign of the mystery and otherness of the Ultimate and supports the needs of the audience during their pilgrimage to the Ultimate” (p. 33). Of those discussed, the three most important are scripture, prayer, and marriage. Piper demonstrates the importance of

scripture by illustrating its connection to the divine as well as its power to stir one’s joy:

“If our quest for lasting happiness is to succeed, we must seek it in relationship with our

Creator. We can do that only by listening to His Word” (p. 145). From this point, the

Bible is depicted as a tool for encouraging joy through its presence as it produces and empowers hope. To aid this argument, Piper shares a story to show how the Bible can affect the human heart and thus change it. He does so primarily through the telling of

Tokichi Ichii, a Japanese criminal sentenced to be hanged in the early 19th century.

While awaiting death, he read a passage regarding the crucifixion: “His attention was riveted by the sentence Jesus said, ‘Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.’

… I stopped: I was stabbed to the heart, as if by a five-inch nail. What did the verse reveal to me? … I do not know what to call it. I only know that with an unspeakably grateful heart I believed” (p. 147). In this view, the Bible is shown to be an incarnational feature of Christian Hedonism intricately connected to the sacred substance of joy and, therefore, the divine: “The whole Bible has this aim and this power: to create hope in the hearts of God’s people. And when hope abounds, the heart is filled with joy” (p. 149).

Utilizing it properly will lead the Hedonist to greater experiences of joy.

The second incarnational feature connected to joy is the act of prayer. To challenge readers who misunderstand or use prayer as a selfish means, Piper reformulates the act by highlighting the joy of realizing one’s neediness: “Here is a great discovery:

We do not glorify God by providing His needs, but by praying that He would provide ours—and trusting Him to answer” (p. 163). In other words, joy emerges from the incarnational act of prayer by totally removing self-confidence. Such a point harkens back to Kant’s philosophy wherein one must become morally worthy as a means to be

happy. Yet, prayer to a Christian Hedonist challenges this framework through the revelation that God himself does the serving: “The discovery was that we do not glorify

God by providing His needs, but by praying that He would provide ours—and trusting

Him to answer. Here we are at the heart of the good news of Christian Hedonism” (p.

168). Through this lens, the process of transcendence radically shifts from legalism and moral worthiness to mercy and humility resulting in greater joy due to the revelation that

God is glorified in one’s weaknesses. In other words, religious pride is admonished and the embodiment of humility, namely prayer, is exalted for the sake of joy.

Third and finally, marriage is brought in as a revelatory function of Hedonism to stir hope. From the New Testament, Piper contends a powerful correlation between marriage and Christ’s relationship with the Church thus deeming it a matrix for the

Christian Hedonist. Interestingly, the Church is perceived as being both the body of

Christ as well as his bride. From these images, Piper correlates an argument that inevitably aims at joy: “In other words, the union between Christ and His bride is so close (‘one flesh’) that any good done to her is a good done to Himself” (p. 206).

Nevertheless, the bigger point of this argument is the desire of Christ to find his joy complete in his bride, the church, and vice versa. In essence, Piper proclaims that the act of marriage is revelatory and results in hope by offering “the privilege to image forth stupendous divine realities infinitely bigger and greater than ourselves” (p. 213). In speaking about his own marriage, Piper contends that, at times, there has been a failure for them to pursue joy in one another. Nevertheless, hope is not forsaken but encouraged as the possibility to mirror this divine mystery in everyday life is accessible:

All too imperfectly, all too half-heartedly at times, we have stalked our own joy in

the joy of each other. And we can testify together: For those who marry, this is

the path to the heart’s desire. … As each pursues joy in the joy of the other and

fulfills a God-ordained role, the mystery of marriage as a parable of Christ and the

church becomes manifest for His great glory and for our great joy. (p. 221)

In other words, a unique act takes place in marriage wherein each participant seeks greater joy through loving and serving the other in the same way that Christ loved the church in his act of dying. Such service is not said to be easy but rather abounding with greater joy.

Mystification and Perspectives of Incongruity in the Process of Transcendence

By this point, many interlocutors would have concurred with the strength of

Piper’s reasoning. Nevertheless, there would have been questions regarding where such longing and joy would lead in daily life when carried to its extreme. Betz (1985) even contends that a type of apprehension, or “‘leap into the unknown,’” would result from awakening the dialectical tensions just as Piper already performed through the concept of joy or lack thereof. The greatest leap, however, was yet to come regarding the Christian

Hedonist and his/her pursuit of joy. As already discussed, he has explained the essential nature of joy in the Christian life and how such a substance can be kindled to stir hope and motivation in everyday life, unlike those in the Kantian framework, whether from scripture, prayer, or marriage. Following this point, Piper brings the Ultimate vision of

God himself back into the frame. Because the Ultimate vision of God is in regards to his enjoying Himself forever, transcendence for humanity is thus in regards to bringing the

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whole world back into willing communion for his praise. In the evangelical mind, this is the cause of missions.

To challenge the apathy and materialistic wealth of many Christian interlocutors,

Piper contrasts mission work with the desired aim of many interlocutors—retirement and the American dream. To do so, he refers to the work of Ralph Winter in relation to retirement in which he states: “Most men don’t die of old age, they die of retirement. I read somewhere that half of the men retiring in the state of New York die within two years. Save your life and you’ll lose it. Just like other drugs, other psychological addictions, retirement is a virulent disease, not a blessing” (p. 223). Next, another pious linkage is brought into view in the person of Paul who sought to take the message of

Christ to new frontiers even at the cost of his life (Betz, 1985). In other words, retirement was not a desired option for early believers. Such a link would have proven powerful in the minds of interlocutors resulting in an alienation of sorts. Piper continues to utilize

Paul’s life as a major thrust regarding the biblical view that without belief in Christ, others remain eternally separated from God: “Paul did not give his life as a missionary to

Asia and Macedonia and Greece and Rome and Spain to inform people they were already saved” (p. 227). More specifically, Piper uses Revelation to expose the clearest form of the Ultimate vision wherein an ethnically diverse multitude stand and sing around God’s throne: “After this I looked, and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and before the Lamb” (Rev. 7:9). Therefore, the sacred substance of joy inevitably connects to worldwide missions in the mind of a Christian Hedonist because it seeks to make manifest the Ultimate vision. However, such an end uniquely hinges on God’s

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sovereignty rather than the work of people. In such a frame, God’s Ultimate vision of hope and humanity’s vision to find satisfaction intertwine: “And therefore missionary work, which is simply liberating the human heart from bondage to allegiances other than

Christ, is impossible—with men! …The great missionary hope is that when the gospel is preached in the power of the Holy Spirit, God Himself does what man cannot do—He creates the faith that saves” (p. 235). From this picture, Piper’s Calvinistic tendencies emerge to hold the vision steadfast through a rhetoric of possibility in light of God’s actions rather than solely humanity’s. Although the mystification of this calling would have been considered insurmountable by many, Piper’s connections between joy and the ultimate vision of God would have laid the groundwork for change.

In the last section of the text, a perspective of incongruity emerges as a means to aid interlocutors to accept such a new path of transcendence. Betz (1985) contends that,

“As a means of disarming the audience, a perspective of incongruity will direct the overall strategy of revelation. The rhetorician deliberately reverses the perspectives of time, value, and experiences, so that the terms chosen to describe a situation take on a meaning precisely opposite their conventional meaning” (p. 34). Piper primarily adds incongruity using the concepts of pain and suffering. Basing his argument from Christ himself, he contends that whatever losses are exacted will be reconciled through joy and hope. For instance, if one was to sell their possessions to move across the world, Piper contends that the person will ultimately find contentment: “If you give up the sense of at- homeness you had in your house, you get back one hundred times the comfort and security of knowing that your Lord owns every house and land and stream and tree on earth” (p. 240). The argument is given strength as more pious linkages are brought forth

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to demonstrate such a possibility even in the face of pain and death. One example is of an early missionary to New Hebrides named John Paton who, at one point, sought refuge in a tree to save his life from a mob. In these moments, Paton reminisces on his experience stating, “Never, in all my sorrows, did my Lord draw nearer to me, and speak more soothingly in my soul, then when the moonlight flickered among these chestnut leaves, and the night air played on my throbbing brow, as I told all my heart to Jesus. Alone, yet not alone!” (p. 240). The enumeration of the linkages given serve as a powerful testament to historic Christian missionaries and the possibility of interlocutors to make the leap themselves. Even Samuel Zwermer, who lost two children in the span of eight days while living in the Persian Gulf, reveals the incongruity of the experience by stating, “The sheer joy of it all comes back. Gladly would I do it all over again” (p. 246). In essence such a rhetorical strategy sought to challenge and break the bonds of American materialism and

Kantian morality, by demonstrating the experiences of Christian Hedonists of the past and thus a possibility for interlocutors to make the leap: “They have discovered a hundred times more joy and satisfaction in a life devoted to Christ and the gospel than in a life devoted to frivolous comforts and pleasures and worldly advancements” (p. 250).

The incongruity continues as Piper demonstrates the rhetorical connection between suffering and the Ultimate vision. In the final moments of the text, Piper tells readers of a conference in which Richard Wurmbrand spoke of suffering. The elderly feeble man took his shoes off and sat on stage due to the effects of torture received while being a pastor during the takeover in Romania: “Again and again he said that Jesus

‘chose’ suffering. He chose it. It did not merely happen to him. He chose it: ‘No one takes [my life] from me, but I lay it down of my own accord’ (John 10:18). He asked us if

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we would choose suffering for the sake of Christ” (p. 253). Such a perspective to Piper directly connects with the actions of Paul; however, directly contrasts with modern believers: “Paul’s life is out of sync with ordinary human choices. Virtually no advertising slogans lure us into daily dying” (p. 262). Instead, the suffering seen in the life of Paul is argued as invaluable in relation to joy meaning that even in suffering, he was pursuing greater joy. Piper contends that suffering is depicted biblically, at times, as a means of removing self-reliance and pride. However, the more central aspect is Paul’s viewing his own suffering and that of Christ’s as synonymous: “Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up…what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions…for the sake of his body, that is, the church” (Col. 1:24). Through this lens,

Piper connects suffering to the rhetorical growth of the early church via martyrdom. To do so, he demonstrates through the ancient story of Polycarp, persuasion results: “‘All the multitude marveled at the great difference between the unbelievers and the elect’” (p.

272). In the incongruity, participants called death, sweet names.

The most powerful linkage is of mostly an unknown figure named Natasha depicted in Sergei Kourdakov’s autobiography, The Persecutor. Kourdakov was a member of the Russian secret police who would raid prayer gatherings. In a sequence of raids, he continued to recognize the same girl despite fears of brutality. During the first raid, he remembers Natasha being thrown against the wall so hard, she was

“semiconscious, moaning” (p. 276). Later, he encountered her and was stunned that she would return to such gatherings: “I quickly surveyed the room and saw a sight I couldn’t believe! There she was, the same girl!” (p. 276). Ultimately, Natasha was encountered in

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a third and final raid in which a partner of Sergei’s named Victor defended her from the other Russian police:

I listened in amazement. Incredibly, one of my most brutal men was protecting

one of the Believers! ‘Get back!’ he shouted to Alex. ‘Get back or I’ll let you

have it.’ He shielded Natasha, who was cowering on the floor. Angered, Alex

shouted, ‘You want her for yourself, don’t you?’ ‘No,’ Victor shouted back. ‘She

has something we don’t have! Nobody touches her! Nobody!’ (p. 277).

Through such a vivid account, meaning is given even to suffering. For interlocutors, they would have questioned what sustained Natasha’s faith. More significantly, her story gave personal evidence of a correlation between suffering and joy. In light of this, Piper posits suffering to be likeness with Christ and thus a greater experience of the sacred substance of joy in the here-and-now. Nevertheless, the incongruity would have overwhelmed readers as Piper revealed suffering to be joy and vice versa. More significantly, interlocutors would have finally grasped the ultimate meaning to such suffering, namely that others could witness such joy and possibly believe themselves. In these last moments, Piper demonstrates how joy, suffering, and the cause of missions result in a fulfillment of the Ultimate vision wherein all nations gather in delight around the throne to praise. By culminating his argumentation one last time alongside the Ultimate vision, the dialectical tensions would have been laid bare especially in the lives of those absent of joy.

Implications and Conclusion

Through this rhetorical text, researchers are given a unique example of a transcendence of hope in the philosophy of Christian Hedonism. The rare strategy of

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Piper to alienate the bonds of Immanuel Kant’s philosophy within evangelicalism as a means to awaken interlocutors to a transcendence sustained with joy is paramount. From this perspective, Piper develops a transcendent framework that must encompass humanity holistically through logic and the emotions. By doing so, he is able to awaken the dialectical tensions of humanity and God by contending that God himself aims at the delight of creation. Such an argument breathes life into lifeless evangelicalism as the sacred substance of joy comes into view. To Piper, longing leads to faith and conversion thus awakening in the interlocutor a new experience and craving that can be stirred through the tools of the Hedonist: scripture, prayer, and marriage. All of these tools result in the reinvigorating of hope which abounds in more and more joy. The most significant aspect of Piper’s rhetoric in Desiring God is the totalizing nature of the

Ultimate vision framed through incongruity. Just as Betz (1985) contended, Piper reframes suffering as joy in the prospect of world missions through the lives and stories of historic Christian missionaries as a means to stir actions among readers. More significantly, Piper’s transcendence creates a sustainable framework for religious participants to maintain hope as the what-will-be becomes the what-is through the sacred substance of joy.

Interestingly, discussions of emotions in rhetorical research are also relegated in the same way as evangelicalism. Nevertheless, through multiple historic figures—Ayn

Rand, Jonathan Edwards, C. S. Lewis, and Flannery O’Connor—Piper demonstrates the need to reconsider the role of emotions especially among religious rhetoric. Whereas

Kantian philosophy sought to relegate the emotions especially in relation to morality,

Piper considers them to be central to the essence of humanity. This research demonstrates

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the centrality of longing and the pursuit of joy in relation to a sustainable transcendence.

More significantly, it denotes the correlation between the dialectical tension of the

Ultimate vision and one’s present state. If one’s joy, or happiness, is the most essential pursuit as depicted as early as Aristotle, then rhetorical scholars must begin to take note in future research dealing with religious rhetoric that seeks to stifle uses of pathos. As shown in this research, without an incarnational substance like joy, evangelical participants remain in a hierarchical psychosis due to Burke’s negative, or alienation from the Ultimate vision. However, in the presence of a rhetorical joy, one is shown the lengths to which one will go to make manifest the Ultimate vision because “the longing to behold is inseparable from the longing to be” (p. 139). Therefore, through rhetorical immanence, one is made eligible “to negate the negation of the incomplete now of their lives” with the sustenance of a sacred substance in the here-and-now (Betz, 1985, p. 31).

More research is needed in relation to immanence to contrast transcendent frameworks that solely focus on Burke’s Negative and the hierarchical psychosis. By refocusing our gaze, new insight may be afforded to rhetorical scholars especially in the area of religious rhetoric.

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CHAPTER IV – THE HUMANISTIC VISION: SCIENCE, TRANSCENDENCE, AND

HUMANISM

On October 29, 1929, the foundational trust in American Christianity and capitalism was shaken as the stock markets crashed resulting in one of the most prolonged and devastating moments in American history. More significantly, the Great

Depression would persist until the 1940s, leaving many in a state of crisis. In light of the historical timeline, this particular event forever changed the American psyche: “The hardship brought on by the Depression affected Americans deeply. Since the prevailing attitude of the 1920s was that success was earned, it followed that failure was deserved”

(“The Great Depression,” para. 4). During this same historical moment, the movement of humanism arose among American scholars and social leaders seeking to constitute a new collective aiming toward a better future. These early humanists declared such aspirations in their first manifesto written in 1933 entitled The Humanist Manifesto I. In this text, the proponents propose a future wherein they were to be the embodiment of a new type of religion based in rationalism superseding traditional religiosity, the proclaimed culprit of many social woes. Distinctively, this movement was hopeful despite the public crisis and thus was eligible to use the moment as a springboard to invite others into a new progressive humanity. The following statement draws attention to the unique moment:

“Today man’s larger understanding of the universe, his scientific achievements, and deeper appreciation of brotherhood, have created a situation which requires a new statement of the means and purposes of religion” (para. 3).

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The Humanist Manifesto I was only to be a precursor to the rapid growth of the movement. Since the thirties, the movement has uniquely updated said manifesto, a genre not known for its fluidity, twice through members of the American Humanist Association

(AHA). The first update came in the form of the Humanist Manifesto II in 1973 following the Civil Rights movement and the Vietnam War. The most recent update, however, was published in 2003 to re-clarify the particular nuances of the movement and its overall aspirations. Rhetorically speaking, the growth of humanism over the last century represents a unique discourse overlooked by rhetorical scholars. Through these published texts, American humanists sought to share this rhetorical vision and thus supersede religiosity by adapting scientific principles and rationalism believed eligible to fill the same void. The movement’s rhetoric was unique in its beginning with religious undertones based in Unitarian Universalism. However, this slowly transitioned away from religious humanists demonstrating a conscious distancing from earlier ideals. More significantly, American humanistic rhetoric sets its crux on a futuristic vision as a means to make manifest a contemporary transcendence of adherents through their imagination.

Utilizing literature on manifestoes and rhetoric as well as Bormann’s theory of rhetorical visions, I will illustrate how through the publication of manifestos, the American

Humanist Association sought to constitute their world through language as a means to reach a state of transcendence-in-progress. This chapter examines the three manifestos of the American Humanist Association and the rhetorical vision constructed to persuade those disillusioned at various points of American history as a means to constitute a new people and humanity powerfully motivated by longing for a futuristic world community.

Such efforts to illuminate the rhetorical strategies of the AHA connects to the overall

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framework of the dissertation by analyzing the differing trajectory and velocity of

Lewis’s sehnsucht as attempts are made to constitute new motives toward a world community.

The Great Depression

The Roaring Twenties ended with an event that would unravel the economic framework of American society. As the stock market crashed on October 29, 1929, many in the moment did not consider the ramifications as to what such an event actually meant.

The greatest example, then President Herbert Hoover proclaimed that the crash would be forgotten in two to three months. Little did Hoover and others know that the Great

Depression would be a prolonged event reaching into the mid-forties. Moreover,

Hoover’s actions toward the event and social need deepened the stock market crash’s effect on families. Unlike any other preceding event, the economic downfall after the crash was so great it was beyond the help and aid of mere social and religious institutions. Yet, reliance on such organizations was Hoover’s plan because of his unrelenting trust in free enterprise (Warren, 1959). In response, the public criticized

Hoover and deemed him as the culprit: “Blamed by many for the Great Depression,

Hoover was widely ridiculed: an empty pocket turned inside out was called a ‘Hoover flag;’ the decrepit shantytowns springing up around the country were called

‘Hoovervilles’” (“The Great Depression,” para. 3). To survive, many families did whatever was necessary. Many children sought to help by selling apples due to a surplus which became a symbol marking the time of need (Warren, 1959). Within a few short years, more than fifteen million people were unemployed, with over half of African-

Americans losing their jobs to White workers. Hoover’s time in office lasted until the 110

election of 1932 in which he formidably lost to Franklin D. Roosevelt due to his persistence and refusal to relinquish federal aid. Warren (1959) argues this same point when stating,

Was he blind to the thousands and millions who had exhausted their savings, were

doubling up with relatives, were burning their furniture because they had no other

fuel? Did he not know that thousands of children, for whom he had promulgated

the verbose Children’s Charter, were going to school, if they went at all, with

inadequate clothing, unattended diseases, and undernourished bodies? … No

matter how often he denied it, people were starving in the midst of plenty” (p.

208).

Uniquely, the optimism of Republicans in the election prior to the stock market crash backfired alongside Hoover’s strategy resulting in their defeat and, more significantly, an effect on Americans that would not soon vanish.

Uniquely, Houck and Nocasian (2002) demonstrate that Roosevelt’s first inaugural address was mixed with secular and religious themes but was given greater affect within the rhetorical situation due to his miraculous escape of an assassination attempt in Miami three weeks prior by what many Americans concluded as divine providence. In the first few months of his presidential administration, Franklin D.

Roosevelt sought to gain public confidence and put into action specific programs that would demonstrate a possible turn from the downward spiral of the previous years. Venn

(1998), for instance, states: “The new president soon ended the mood of uncertainty and inaction, however. …To this problem it brought the novelty and excitement of change; a

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variety of schemes and theories for recovery … and a President whose many gifts included the capacity to speak to, and captivate, ordinary Americans.” (p. 27). One of the more important actions was the Emergency Banking Act which hoped to reopen many of the national banks. Roosevelt’s ethos was solidified in this act as the first day of re- opening ended with a surplus (Venn, 1998). This particular act would also play a pivotal role in initiating The New Deal. The Hundred Days as they are often spoken of was a span of months in which Roosevelt challenged Congress with the passing of legislation ranging from agriculture to unemployment relief. Schlesinger (1983) of the New York

Times recounts the words of Walter Lippman regarding the flurry of the administration in reinvigorating hope in the American government: “In the hundred days from March to

June we became again an organized nation confident of our power to provide for our own security and to control our own destiny” (para. 3).

During the early years of the depression, one can question the extent to which religious belief was called into question. The weight of such inaction during the Hoover administration was not only felt in the marketplaces but also in religious life. For instance, the Britannica Encyclopedia notes that, “Within only a few years of its onset in fall 1929, Protestantism felt the full weight of the Depression. Budgets were slashed, membership decreased, ministers were dismissed, and churches were closed” (para. 12).

Nevertheless, in years prior to the stock market crash of 1929, changes in the religious landscape of America were already emerging with greater reliance on materialism and science. The Depression was to be the final straw for many who had confidence regarding American optimism, religious or secular (Boyer, 1992). One of the more notable movements gaining ground around the time of the Great Depression was 112

Unitarian Universalism, a religious sect that pursued detachment from Christian orthodoxy and religious fundamentalism. In what follows, I recount one of the early leaders of Unitarianism who ultimately help lay the foundation for the Humanist

Manifesto to be written in 1933.

A Likely Union: Unitarian Universalism and Religious Humanism

The Nontheistic Religionists

John H. Dietrich was born in Pennsylvania in 1878. Reared in the protestant tradition, Dietrich attended Eastern Theological Seminary and took his first minister position at St. Mark’s Memorial Church, a congregation stemming from the reformed tradition in Pittsburgh. In 1911, Dietrich was removed from the pastorate and underwent a religious trial regarding heresy due to his rejection of orthodox positions such as the divinity of Jesus (Chandler, 1994). Nevertheless, the change was to be a spark in the lives of many due to Dietrich’s distinct discourse and belief. Following his removal from St.

Mark’s, Dietrich became a pastor in Spokane, Washington at the First Unitarian Society.

The growth of this single church was to be a microcosm of the greater movement of

Unitarian Universalism. For instance, Eklof (2014), a current minister at the Spokane congregation, states that, “During his five years in Spokane, from 1911 to 1916, Dietrich grew in popularity, so much so that the sixty-member church eventually had to move to a bigger venue … to preach to an audience of a thousand or more” (p. 7). Apparently, the fields were ripe for such discourse. Following his time with the congregation, he took a position in Minneapolis with another Unitarian congregation in which Dietrich also became an outspoken advocate of humanism in the realm of politics facing such topics as evolution and birth control. 113

While in Spokane, Eklof (2014) notes that Dietrich began explicitly speaking of his particular view of religion as humanism. Such influence seemed to stem from logical positivism and the supremacy of rationalism to undergird social change for the betterment of humanity. Chandler (1994) states that, “Humanism was presented as universal and non-sectarian; and the movement was described as a rapidly spreading persuasion (p. 29).

Ultimately, Dietrich became known as the father of American religious humanism due to his early work in the twentieth century. One of his more famous works, a sermon called

Humanism, was written in 1934 and distributed in pamphlets one year after the declaration of the Humanist Manifesto I, of which he was a signer. In the sermon,

Dietrich declares:

What is this distinction between Theism and Humanism? Perhaps I can make it

plain by a couple of definitions. Cardinal Newman in his Grammar of Assent

says: ‘By religion I mean the knowledge of God and of our duties toward him.’

By changing a couple of words in that definition, I can tell you my conception of

Humanism. Let me put it this way: ‘By religion I mean the knowledge of man

and our duties toward him.’ That is Humanism. It does not deny the right to

believe in God and learn what you can about that which we designate about God,

but it places faith in man, a knowledge of man, and our duties toward one another

first. (para. 2)

Dietrich himself contended that Unitarian Universalism served as the grounds from which the philosophy of Humanism could easily emerge. Yet, his influence and leadership in fanning the flames must be considered when analyzing the movement’s

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growth in America. Eklof (2014) similarly adds that Dietrich should be considered more so a midwife rather than a father to the movement: “It was the freedom he discovered in

Unitarianism that allowed him to explore new ideas, and Unitarian’s emphasis upon

Jesus’ humanity and the humanistic nature of his practical teachings, that helped John

Dietrich articulate something that has always been essential to our faith” (p. 8). From this perspective, the fields of America in the early twentieth century were ripe for a different kind of harvest per se even prior to the Great Depression and among the harvesters of

Humanism was none other than John Dietrich.

Although Dietrich was one of the major leaders and signers of the Humanist

Manifesto I, another leader helped to greater solidify the movement, Curtis Reese. Reese was born in the late 19th century and was raised in a Baptist family (Chandler, 1994).

Following his span of years of attending Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, he received his doctoral degree from Ewing College in 1910. However, he slowly became disillusioned ultimately leaving the Baptist tradition to become a Unitarian Universalist.

Serving in several positions and congregations, he found himself serving on boards of

Unitarian conferences as well as accepting a deanship at Abraham Lincoln Center in

Chicago (Chandler, 1994). Reese’s ideas can be found in a book review published in

1932, one year prior to the publication of the Humanist Manifesto I. In the review, one finds Reese wrestling with the place and study of religion in higher education: “Much yet remains to be done before we have an adequate philosophy of religion in higher education. We need to know what are the religious values inherent in the college and university situation, how to bring them to consciousness, how to make them functional in

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life” (p. 302). Ultimately, Reese would become a signer and the first president of the

American Humanist Association in 1941, where he resided for over a decade.

These two figures, Dietrich and Reese, were signers of the original drafting of the

Humanist Manifesto during the thirties, but, more significantly, transitioned the Humanist

Press Association in 1941 into a major organization that would solidify and recruit others into the collective vision of the humanist philosophy, the American Humanist

Association (AHA). In doing so, proponents could “recognize the nontheistic and secular nature of humanism, organize its advocates, and align the organization for the mutual education of both its religious and nonreligious members” (“Our history,” para. 6).

The Proceeding Decades

Although humanism began in America during the 1930s with the publication of the first manifesto, the proceeding artifacts emerged decades later following other historic events that should be briefly discussed in an effort to greater illuminate the varying rhetorical situations. The Humanist Manifesto II was written in 1973 following closely on the heels of the Civil Rights Movement. Despite the passing of the Civil Rights Act of

1964, Americans had to contend with the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr. only four years later by James Earl Ray. The social upheaval of the moment had progressed to a certain extent by gaining equality for all; nevertheless, the period was marked as a point in American history that revealed a deep insidiousness of society. As Bubacz (2013) writes, “His death shocked a country rocked by riots, civil discord, and a controversial war. It sparked nationwide protests, a two-month manhunt and an outpouring of grief for the slain civil rights leader.” (para. 1). Many such events, are implied in the manifesto as

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a means to call for change (Kurtz, 1998). Only two years following King’s assassination, the U. S. Supreme Court ruled in favor of abortion thus noting its constitutionality. The decision of Roe v. Wade was an arduous process that lasted for three years. Roe, a pseudonym of Norma McCorvey, sought federal action against an attorney of Dallas named Henry Wade. Nevertheless, in the end the Court ruled in favor with a 7-2 count for

Roe positing that “a set of Texas statutes criminalizing abortion in most instances violated a woman’s constitutional right of privacy, which it found to be implicit in the liberty guarantee of the due process clause of the Fourteenth Amendment” (“Roe v.

Wade,” 2017, para. 1). This occurrence alone further divided political identities and stirred religious participants politically which, in part, helped to greater crystallize the humanist identity from those they disdained. With these events in mind, one can better understand the AHA and their willingness to restate their ideals at such a unique time in history. Kurtz (1998) clarifies the goal of the manifesto in relating to the external social occurrences when stating, “The manifesto defended the right to privacy, sexual freedom between consenting adults, abortion, and euthanasia, as well as other rights of minorities, women, the aged, abused children, and the disadvantaged. … It deplored racial, religious, and class antagonisms and called for an end to terror and hatred” (p. 25). However, this was not to be the last written declaration.

The final manifesto published in 2003 came at another point of social upheaval not long after the terrorist attacks of September 11th. In addition to the numerous lives lost during the attacks of 2001, America was so emboldened and outraged that the country ultimately found itself invading Iraq in January of 2003. In many ways, the Iraq

War is very similar to that of Vietnam in the sense that most Americans eventually 117

became disillusioned and saw no positive outcome despite the numerous lives lost. In essence, it seems that such moments of crisis call for the possibility of change for the future. For all of the events mentioned before in relation to major actions to instill their movement in the public—the Great Depression, the Civil Rights movement, and

September 11th and the ensuing Iraq War—call into question just how deeply American citizens were affected during these intervals. Brunn (2004) helps by providing some probing questions regarding one’s shifting views of the world following the terrorist attacks of 2001. In this chapter, Brunn is questioning territorial states and the integration of globalism in lieu of recent events and its detrimental effect on American identity:

In some cases, change is little more than an extension of existing patterns, not

necessarily obliterating all that has gone before. At the other extreme, change may

be so dramatic that it produces qualitative as well as quantitative alterations in the

nature of political life. Is a new global order resting on new systemic foundations

emerging, or is the existing system simply reconstituting itself to reflect shifting

technological, economic, and political realities? (p. 18)

Such questions seem to be a similar mindset of AHA proponents, who throughout the last century have employed such repeated moments of crisis to reframe their identity and future hope by questioning the religious and political status quo and sharing their vision of a new world.

One Collective Voice

The issue of rhetor, or rhetors, is a unique facet to these texts. Although the artifacts themselves were written by one or more people, the ideas, arguments, and

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emphases mentioned in each document were constructed by a collective panel and then signed in affirmation. For instance, the Humanist Manifesto I was drafted by Raymond

Bragg, a Unitarian Universalist minister, and Roy Wood Sellars, a philosopher from the

University of Michigan. The Humanist Manifesto II, however, was penned by Paul Kurtz an editor during that time for the Humanist magazine. Kurtz, who passed away in 2012, was both before and after the publication of the second manifesto, an avid proponent for the humanist movement. As opposed to Dietrich, the acclaimed father of religious humanism, Kurtz has been otherwise deemed the father of secular humanism. The shifts in thought and mission between the Humanist Manifesto’s I and II denote this transformation. Kurtz edited many volumes to help aid and disseminate the humanist philosophy as distinguished through the AHA. In one such volume published the same year as the second manifesto called The Humanist Alternative: Some Definitions of

Humanism, Kurtz (1973) posits, “Humanism thus provides a critique of alienating and depersonalizing tendencies, whether the source is religion, ideology, bureaucracy or technology” (p. 6). Nevertheless, the discursive rhetoric emerging from the manifesto should be viewed as multi-vocal and thus unique: “During this process, I revised the manifesto many times—each time attempting to refine it further. I must say that I found the drafting of Humanist Manifesto II a herculean task. From most humanists there were welcomed advice and improvements on the documents; from some there were irate letters of disagreement about one provision or word” (Kurtz, 1998, p. 26). Therefore, the second manifesto, like the first, is constructed by multiple rhetors in a format similar to creedal deliberations of the past wherein many voices become one.

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The most recent manifesto similarly was drafted by a panel established by the

AHA consisting of Fred Edwords, Edd Doerr, Tony Hileman, Pat Duffy Hutcheon, and

Maddy Urken (“Humanism and its aspirations…,” para. 4). Of these, Fred Edwords worked as former executive director of the AHA and editor for the Humanist. Hutcheon likewise was named Canada’s Humanist of the Year in 2000 due to her work at progressing equality of the sexes (“Freedom from religion foundation,” n.d.). For much of Hutcheon’s career, she taught sociology at various universities in Canada thus becoming a person of major influence regarding humanism in the past few decades. From this information, one can find a unique collection of voices ranging from those even outside of the country.

In all three artifacts, the texts were penned by one or more individuals.

Nevertheless, the issue of rhetor, or author, is complex because such ideas, language, and emphases were held accountable to other humanistic thinkers. Such a nuance reiterates how important this aspect is to each artifact considering the discourse is amplified not just by one voice, but instead a collective ethos physically constituted by signatures even though a signer may have never voiced ideas about said document to the drafters. This is a powerful nuance to the manifestoes’ rhetoric because the editors themselves are not the sole author, but instead one voice in the midst of the collective. Correlations to this rhetorical collective ethos can be found in Zaeske’s (2002) work on the signatures of female petitioners of slavery in which a counterpublic voice was formulated.

Due to the time period in which the first manifesto was written, it is difficult to succinctly say how many people were affected by its publication. The original manifesto

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would have been printed and disseminated in pamphlets. Werner (2018) gives an idea as to who the original targets of the manifesto were when stating, “Intellectually, humanism was centered both at Columbia University and the University of Chicago with leaders such as John Herman Randall Jr., John Dewey, and Dewey’s students Sidney Hook and

Corliss Lamont” (p. 42). Considering the historical context and the experiences of signers like Dietrich and Reese, the manifesto sought to target the religiously disillusioned as well as capitalize on the paradigmatic shift in culture emerging from the Great

Depression. However, there was also a growing skepticism seen toward humanism amongst conservatives. Melichar (1983) contends that humanists struggled in their earliest years due to the barring of what others deemed as anti-patriotic ideas. The height of such skepticism came during the emergence of the New Right: “The New Right claims that God is on their side, and that anyone who disagrees with them on any issue is a secular humanist (sometimes using other terms that have become virtually interchangeable with secular humanists for the New Right, e.g., humanists, atheists, and communists)” (p. 55). Such barriers hindered the AHAs rhetoric and inevitably the dissemination of their rhetorical vision.

The updated manifesto, Humanist Manifesto II, however, was published and

“released during Labor Day weekend in 1973 to unprecedented media fanfare” (“Our history,” para. 9). Such a drastic difference in media dissemination allowed the then- organized AHA to reach a much broader audience. Nevertheless, the main appeals of this text remain focused on a targeted audience who are disillusioned with supernaturalism and government thus utilizing a differing form of skepticism. Finally, the last manifesto,

Humanism and its Aspirations, was published in 2003. By that point, the AHA already 121

had launched the “introduction of its website in 1995” paving the way to reach millions with this most recent update: “[Our website] remains a leader in online and social media communications with hundreds of thousands of followers throughout its active presence on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Google+” (para. 15). The aforementioned purpose of this artifact further illustrates the targeting of such an audience: “Humanists long for and strive toward a world of mutual care and concern, free of cruelty and its consequences, where differences are resolved cooperatively without resorting to violence” (para. 8). Therefore, the targeted audience of these texts can be seen to be those disheartened by the status quo of society.

The Religious Nation and Humanism[s]

Of the major competing forces of humanist philosophy is none other than religiosity itself. Whereas humanism had roots in various countries and was emerging globally as a philosophy solidifying in America, the proponents had to contend with an overwhelmingly religious culture. For instance, Kurtz (1973) discusses the growth of humanism globally mentioning its organization and nuanced nature in countries like

Amsterdam, Norway, Germany, Canada, and Korea. However, the religiosity of America and its defiance toward secularism is unmatched. Uniquely, the era of the Great

Depression provided a situation wherein a division of political ideals became more explicit between liberals and conservatives. Additionally, the 1920s was a unique time for

Protestants in America. Although one of the major themes of the decade was Prohibition, there was also an economic boom taking place that allowed families to begin prospering materialistically. Religiously speaking, research demonstrates an interconnectedness between protestant faith during the twenties and the growth of capitalism in which 122

ministries even began adopting consumer strategies: “Virtually all leaders of industry and politics were Protestants who attended church regularly. Their charity was reflected in the amount spent for new church buildings, which exploded from 60 million dollars in

1921 to 284 million dollars in 1926” (“Religion 1931-1939,” 2002, para. 120). Therefore, a certain cultural capital existed if one participated in church life and activities. In addition, there was a tension that occurred between religious privatism and those who desired to have social outlook. By 1917, Walter Rauschenbusch already had centralized this divide in his infamous A Theology for a Social Gospel. The stock market crash of

1929 only heightened these tensions turning many religious participants inward rather than outward and thus focusing more on the afterlife rather than the here and now.

Therefore, one can view the religiosity of America as a major competing force to the humanist philosophy in America.

Additionally, the fluidity of humanism’s definition also served to be a competing force that, at times, drained the movement of its distinctiveness and meaning. For instance, in the reiteration of humanism in the second manifesto, the writers explicitly note that the humanism of the AHA is distinguishable from others:

Many kinds of humanism exist in the contemporary world. The varieties and

emphases of naturalistic humanism include “scientific,” “ethical,” “democratic,”

“religious,” and “Marxist” humanism. Free thought, atheism, agnosticism,

skepticism, deism, rationalism, ethical culture, and liberal religion all claim to be

heir to the humanist tradition. … Many within religious groups, believing in the

future of humanism, now claim humanist credentials. Humanism is an ethical

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process through which we all can move, above and beyond the divisive

particulars, heroic personalities, dogmatic creeds, and ritual customs of past

religions or their mere negation. (para. 6)

In essence, if everyone is a humanist, then the movement is drained of its rhetorical force.

Therefore, the AHA had to compete with such other movements that sought to coopt the term.

En-Visioning a New World

Of the numerous religious and social groups that have and continue to exist, one must ask what facet primarily aids, motivates, and inevitably sustains said participants.

For new movements, of course, the rhetorical discourse helps to motivate, but what causes sustenance or a lack thereof leading to success, or failure? Griffin early-on noted that all movements in a sense are concerned moralistically and aim for a type of salvation, or the greatest good. Although the past chapter looked at a religious perspective of transcendence, the current one attempts to better understand the type of transcendence emerging from the humanist movement beginning in the 1930s. Visions themselves are often spoken of with religious connotation, but there is more to be said about this phenomenon and its relationship to rhetorical discourse in the scientific community. Just as apocalyptic visions have bolstered religious identity and actions throughout history, the same can be said for rhetorical visions that emerge within secular communities and may even correlate to a type of religious longing. In a very similar way, the humanist movement of America through their creative imagining sought a world based in scientific and rational thinking without belief in the supernatural. Of course, this

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vision grew and became more succinct throughout the reformulation of their manifestos in the seventies and early 21st century; nevertheless, the overarching desire to recreate humanity was central. Primarily for this section, I want to depict the rhetorical constitution of reality the AHA has gained through the publication of their historic manifestos.

Secularism and Religiosity: Colliding at an Intersection

Kitcher (2014), in his work entitled Life After Faith, discusses secular humanism in an effort to differentiate the philosophy’s ideals from religious belief. He contends that religions “are distinguished by their invocation of something beyond the mundane physical world, some ‘transcendent’ realm, and they offer claims about this

‘transcendent’” (p. 3). On the other hand, Kitcher posits that secular humanists are different in that they centralize the here and now making humans “both creators and loci of value, our work of creation prompted by the exigencies of the human predicament. Out of that work, carried forward in the ethical project, has come nothing less than a transformation of human existence.” (p. 59). With similar distinctions, Miosi (1989) when discussing religion, posits that recent advances in technology and scholarship have mortally wounded religious believers to the extent that one’s “job now is to inform and convince the common believer that this is actually the case” (p. 256). Rosenberg (2011) when explaining the differences between atheism and religious belief contends that there is a major difference between whether a person wants fuzzy, warm stories, or greater comprehension of reality through scientific understanding: “First, the answers that science provides are not particularly warm and fuzzy. Second, once you understand them, they stick. You are unlikely to give them up, so long as you insist that evidence govern 125

your beliefs” (p. 7). In a sense, he is differentiating between the cathartic experiences of pathos-filled narratives and that of logic; yet, this point is questionable because its crux relies on the position that all forms of atheism, and similarly secular humanism, are absent of story.

Although Rosenberg (2011) makes such a claim, it is interesting that others who may agree, but label themselves as humanists hinge their philosophy in story form centralizing progress. Schulz (1989), in fact, argues that the major hindrance of

American humanism keeping it from prospering to a greater form, as in other countries, is the lack of vision by many proponents. For Schulz (1989), the ability to imagine a world community must be central due to its effect on interlocutors: “Not a single one of us has ever experienced a true world community. Globalism requires that we imagine one—not just think about it, but allow its implications and its flavors, its meaning and its marvel to course over us” (p. 345). In other words, to aid the growth of secular humanism, the humanists should tap into something deeper in the human experience, namely a longing for a future world which would affect others greatly. Black (1973) concurs with Schulz reconfiguring the religious themes of hope and faith for humanist participants despite their negative ideas toward religion: “Men cannot live without hope. Men cannot live without faith. Hope has to do with a sense that something better is possible” (p. 76). His latter statement connotes a sense of longing and is thus very important as it demonstrates a desire for a transcendent place not unlike religious visions. Yet, Black (1989) centralizes process over telos: “The value lies in what we try to be and try to do and what happens to us in the striving. … Perhaps it is man’s fate to strive even though he knows that he will never fulfill his dream of self and his dream of society” (p. 77). In the 126

introduction of Building a World Community, Kurtz (1989) grounds this understanding of humanism by defining it as eupraxophy which when summarized is an attempt to combine philosophy, the scientific method, and ethics to gain understanding over nature and life. By using this term, Kurtz (1989) differentiates humanism from other religions especially their end-times visions. However, there seems to exist a similarity that underscores a relationship between both types of ideologies due to the revelatory nature of their rhetoric. For example, the vision of John regarding the apocalypse was the passing away of an old world to make way for the new that was already in transition.

Through this lens, humanism’s vision toward a futuristic world community is apocalyptic on its own and thus shares in a type of religious rhetoric especially in their longing for a future world. Such longing, in fact, acts as a motive to their actions to constitute such a place.

Both Schulz and Black’s arguments are important because it specifically connects to C. S. Lewis’s sehnsucht, or an innate longing for a different place. In his 1941 sermon entitled The Weight of Glory, Lewis perceives a culture among his audience that restricted and undercut this religious longing. Primarily, he contends that his opponents confused the end to which this “inconsolable secret” aimed thus stifling its effects. Lewis argues: “When they want to convince you that earth is your home … They begin by trying to persuade you that earth can be made into heaven, thus giving a sop to your sense of exile in earth as it is. Next, they tell you that this fortunate event is still a good way off in the future, thus giving a sop to your knowledge that the fatherland is not here and now”

(para. 5). Although Lewis’s sermon was nearly a decade following the publication of the

Humanist Manifesto I, his point uniquely underscores a central rhetorical facet to the 127

philosophy: the vision for a new humanity and world. Elsewhere, Kurtz (1973) succinctly contends the centrality of a futuristic world community when stating,

However, the Humanist is truly global in his concern for he realizes that no man is

a separate island and that we are all part of the mainland of humanity. Thus the

idea of mankind as a whole and of one world, is a profound moral vision that

sustains and nourishes the Humanist morality. … Although we should allow the

widest latitude of freedom to individuals to do what they like, we nevertheless

recognize the need for the human race to transform blind social forces into

rational control and to build a world community. (pp. 179-180; emphasis added)

The Priestly Voice of Science and Humanism

In an important piece written by Lessl (1996) called Naturalizing Science: Two

Episodes in the Evolution of a Rhetoric of Scientism, he exposes both earlier and latter uses of scientific language to coopt religious themes. To do so, he points to Francis

Bacon and Jacob Bronowski, both of whom are important figures in the history of scientific growth. Lessl concludes that the rhetoric of Bacon sought a type of religious authority for science as seen in Protestantism with scripture. However, in doing so, Bacon regarded the two as connected yet separate: “He does so by treating science as analogue to biblical hermeneutics. Clerics read the ‘book of God’s Word,’ and scientists read the

‘book of God’s works’” (p. 385). As science progressed, changes were made especially with the increasing division between rationalism and religious thought. However, in analyzing Jacob Bronowski’s Ascent of Man, Lessl (1996) denotes a continuing attempt to couch scientific thought using metaphysical concepts and ideas even though the two

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were regarded as antithetical.2 The most notable way Bronowski coopts biblical and theistic themes is by using Milton’s Paradise Lost as a means to sanctify natural selection which should be, a completely naturalistic, impersonal process: “In each of these passages Bronowski endows natural selection with personal attributes that are inconsistent with a strictly orthodox view of evolution. Even as he wishes to distance science from the biblical conception of reality that governed Bacon’s rhetoric, Bronowski persists in a creationism all his own. … the motive is the same” (p. 391). From this perspective, Lessl (1996) concludes such attempts demonstrate the priestly nature of scientistic discourse.

Earlier in his research, Lessl (1989) differentiated between the rhetorical roles of the bard and the priest. The bardic voice in essence acts as an interpretive role that mirrors a culture’s image often through storytelling. The priestly voice, however, represents an elite discourse that alters culture by filtering and transmitting every aspect through the transcendent, or metaphysical. From this standpoint, the priestly voice also acts as the access point to initiates without such credentialed discourse: “Unlike the bards who stand at the center of their culture, priests, as mediators between a religious elite and society at large, stand at the outskirts of their world as ambassadors to the unsaved” (Lessl, 1989, p. 186). Through these voices, Lessl contends that many within the scientific community have started to utilize the priestly voice and thus gain a sense of religious authority through orthodoxy. More significantly in relation to humanism, Lessl

2 “… nature’s unique experiment to make the rational intelligence prove itself sounder than the reflex. Knowledge is our destiny. Self-knowledge, at last bringing together the experience of the arts and the explanations of science, waits ahead of us” (Ascent 437). 129

(1989) posits an attempt by the priest to centralize their ethos by implementing synecdoche: “Priestly rhetoric is synecdochic to the extent that in it we find an institution portraying its particular ethos as the very essence of humanity” (p. 188). In many ways, humanist rhetoric does just this by attempting to filter ethics, philosophy, and reality through a rationalistic and scientific lens. Such a point can be seen in the materials disseminated by American humanists on topics ranging from technology, ethics, ecology, war, human rights, sex and gender, religions, and moral education (Kurtz, 1989). The base of American humanism is the enlightenment period in which scientific thought began to progress. Therefore, every topic discussed from the humanistic outlook is colored by science and rationalism demonstrating use of Lessl’s (1989) priestly voice.

“We believe in the use of reason and evidence to evaluate claims to truth, and we believe in testing these claims by examining their consequences in experience. Thus we wish to encourage the use of the scientific method because of its demonstrated ability to discover the truth and to provide great benefit for humankind” (Kurtz, 1989, p. 9; emphasis added). From this point, American humanists not only rely on religious symbols in their rhetorical discourse, but also seemingly utilize a priestly voice that filters all such topics through the authority of science.

Uniquely, this research connects to the strategies of humanism in which a new world is envisioned. The AHA manifestoes themselves represent scientific discourse that relies on a major religious theme, namely a new humanity. Therefore, in the following section, I will review the literature regarding constitutive rhetoric, manifestoes, and

Bormann’s (1972) rhetorical visions in an effort to better understand the AHAs rhetorical strategies in persuading interlocutors to their new philosophy. In doing so, I additionally 130

hope to illuminate the rhetorical strategies of the AHA to alter the trajectory and velocity of Lewis’s sehnsucht.

Constitutive Rhetoric and the Manifesto

Since the creation of the printing press, there have been significant documents published that not only set forth a new vision of reality but, in many ways, attempted to constitute and actualize it for interlocutors. For example, the signing of the Declaration of Independence of the Thirteen Colonies transcended a mere collection of individuals offering signatures. Instead, a new people and country was established through the power of the text. In a seminal piece, Charland (1987) maintains this point when speaking about the constitutive effects of a document called the White Papers published by the

Mouvement Souverainete-Association from which the Peuple Quebecois, who although were not recognized before, were discursively constituted simply through its publication.

In other words, a discursive effect of rhetorical texts reside in their constitutive nature.

Yet, Charland posits that the power of discourse often formulates other aspects of identity unknowingly: “Nevertheless, much of what we as rhetorical critics consider to be a product or consequence of discourse, including social identity, religious faith, sexuality, and ideology is beyond the realm of rational or even free choice, beyond the realm of persuasion” (p. 133). From this perspective, it is possible to formulate collective identities intentionally through such texts as writers connect the past to present through strategic uses of history and narratives. A manifesto represents a unique textual genre that centralizes this facet of language because of its explicit nature. Sinkey (2009) contends that the following often serve as the foundation and formulation in historic manifestoes:

“1) the status of universality; 2) the problem of history and influence; and 3) 131

performativity: a concern with the interrelated processes of politicization, interpellation of subjects, and linguistic constitution” (p. 5). Other researchers, like Lyon (1999) note that manifestos detail a selected history, air grievances by declaring specific demands, and names those who oppress the disempowered thus challenging them. From this perspective, manifestoes are more than a declarative text but rather a means to establish and enable the embodiment of some-thing in order that it be made manifest. Possibly due to the genre no longer being politically in vogue, Lyon (1999) contends that research regarding manifestoes is often neglected by rhetorical scholars: “Its influence on the history of the modern West, though decisive, has been largely overlooked, perhaps precisely because its apparent rhetorical straightforwardness obscures the degree to which the form is embedded in the contradictions of political representation” (p. 2).

Nevertheless, much attention has been given to the power of language and its constitutive ability and can, therefore, be extended to the work of manifestoes especially in relation to American Humanism (Charland, 1987). Amidon (2003) importantly notes the historical act of Martin Luther nailing his ninety-five theses to the door of Wittenburg church as a seminal moment connecting to later uses of the manifesto genre, a seemingly secular tool: “As I trace this influence through these premodern manifestoes, one conclusion becomes inescapable: Luther’s work prepares us for the individualism upon which the disciplinary mechanisms of capitalism are later built. It pries apart the religious sphere from that of the state” (p. 42). More significantly, the nailing of the theses produced a public image that has far outlasted its time. Alongside this point, Amidon

(2003) points to Luther’s unintended effects, especially that of the Peasant Rebellion considering he sought reformation and not a revolution. Following the Reformation, the 132

manifesto materialized as a political document. One of the most well-known examples is the Manifesto of the Communist Party published in 1848. In this document, Marx and

Engels (1888) declare the current time to be a rhetorical situation through which they label and thus constitute protagonists, antagonists, and re-establish the scene through language: “A spectre is haunting Europe—the spectre of Communism. … All the powers of old Europe have entered into a holy alliance to exorcise this spectre… It is high time that Communists should openly, in the face of the whole world, publish their views, their aims, their tendencies, and meet this nursery tale of the Spectre of Communism with a manifesto of the party itself” (p. 14).

As for analysis, the texts themselves are often viewed from two standpoints: the formal structure or content (Amidon, 2003). Structurally speaking, one could question how simple the structure is for readers and thus understanding. While, on the other hand, the discourse and ideologies of a manifesto can help expose the constitutive rhetoric employed to make manifest a new reality. Sinkey (2009) illustrates the importance of a manifesto’s content and rhetorical ability to re-constitute identity by envisioning a new future when writing, “Manifestoes must insist that ‘we’ are here but we are not who we are; or, we are not who ‘you’ or ‘they’ say we are; or, we exist but don’t yet know who we will become. This unknown but becoming identity is what is announced and constituted through the manifesto” (p. 23). As a result, the aspect of time emerges as primary through the depiction of the contemporary moment as a point of crisis thus enabling a promise toward utopia. The futuristic vision, however, establishes transcendence in the present as depicted before: “The future described in the manifesto already exists and is already finished.” (Sinkey, 2009, p. 14). Therefore, rhetorical 133

scholars are challenged to interpret and understand the nuances constructed in manifestoes as well as the roles of such participants. Additionally, meaning and motives are gained by interlocutors as they are beckoned, even hailed, by such texts. Such facets illuminate the overarching purpose of the AHA manifestoes as they are updated in various epochs. Not only do the authors describe each moment as a space for change due to social failures, antagonists are named in the form of religious fundamentalists from which protagonists must progress and transcend into a new people. From this constitutive affect and the participants becoming communal, a rhetorical vision becomes active, shared, and embodied crystallizing into a social reality of the collective that is put into action.

Rhetorical Visions and the Creation of Community

In the 1970s, a unique facet of rhetorical criticism was added through Bormann’s

(1972) theory of rhetorical visions that may help further illuminate the rhetorical discourse of AHAs manifestoes. A rhetorical vision is “[t]he composite dramas which catch up large groups of people in a symbolic reality … Just as fantasy themes chain out in the group to create a unique group culture so do the fantasy dramas of a successful persuasive campaign.” (p. 398). In Bormann’s formulation, he demonstrates a correlation between discursive formation and the creative imagination, or fantasy types of a community. One such example spoken of is the early Puritan communities who established themselves in the New World. In thinking about Puritanism and the motives that sustained said communities, Bormann posits that, “The born again Christian is baptized and adopts a life style and behavior modeled after the heroes of the dramas that sustain that vision” (pp. 406-407). For the purposes of this chapter, rhetorical visions are 134

important because they help illuminate motives and meanings within communication both religious and secular communities.

Other studies have utilized Bormann’s theory of rhetorical visions. For example,

Hensley (1975) analyzed the Disciples of Christ, a revivalist Christian sect which saw its greatest growth in the nineteenth century. The Disciples centralized pragmatism in their moral values and, additionally, intertwined America with religious eschatology thereby defining it as the New Heaven. Hensley (1975) argues this point to be the central nuance to the movement: “The cultural key to understanding the birth and rise to prominence of the Disciples of Christ is the cluster of fantasies relating to millennialism (the belief that the Kingdom of God was about to be established in America)” (p. 251). In a similar way, the key to understanding AHA discourse may be the cluster of fantasies that are shared through the publication of their manifestoes relating to a futuristic world community. The rhetorical influence of the Disciples saw great growth from its emergence in 1832 capturing the attention of even an American President, Garfield. In the analysis, Hensley

(1975) sees the rhetorical vision emerging from the Bible wherein protagonists and antagonists are prescribed. The scene of this vision is set in America whose movement further west denoted a re-birth of Eden as Christians sped this dramatic event through their actions. The dramatis personae, or the central feature of the movement was the role of God’s chosen people to spread this message. If proponents did not participate then they would miss the ultimate blessing of restoration. Such research gives insight into the motives and sense-making of communities and, as already stated, may point to the central rhetorical logic of the AHA artifacts. Just as the Bible textually acted as a platform from which such a vision could emerge though a millenarian hermeneutic, the same can be 135

said of manifestoes due to the genre’s explicit nature: “The fantasy theme drama when shared is a key to the social reality. … [through which] participants come to share the interpretation of the drama, the emotions, meanings, and attitudes of the drama towards the personae and the action” (Bormann, 1982, p. 304). Therefore, the publication of each manifesto can be viewed as multiple rhetorical attempts to share the vision of American humanism.

Additional research has been performed in non-religious contexts. For instance,

Endres (1989) studied the rhetorical visions of unmarried mothers and found multiple themes emerging such as, the victimization fantasy type: “From the standpoint of the rhetorical critic, the victimization fantasy type is the central drama for the Epsilon mother. … The setting is a culture that has not changed its traditional and moralistic condemnation of out of wedlock motherhood” (p. 145). Elsewhere, Brown (1976) noted the importance of mediums in constituting rhetorical visions. To him, the power of television was a central factor in influencing the symbolic reality of the American public.

From a discussion ranging from Little House on the Prairie and The Jeffersons, the point is made that such environments ultimately have rhetorical influence because they constitute a vision for actual reality: “In the present time of anxiety, the medium should act on the assumption by excited people that it is the source of symbolic power in our culture, that it is the key to system-balancing of rhetorical visions in this country” (p.

399). From this perspective, any authors of sources—mediated or textual—ultimately can affect and thus create rhetorical visions for others. Additionally, Ilkka (1977) studied the rise of Communism in America following the Bolshevik Revolution as language and particular symbols added vitality to proponents. From this research, the emphases on 136

sources and scene are interesting and directly connect with the rhetorical vision constituted by humanists in America, namely through the medium of manifesto. More significantly, the unique correlation between Lewis’s concept of longing and humanism’s rhetorical vision seem to intersect but differ in terms of trajectory except in cases like the

Disciples of Christ who similarly saw the here-and-now as a possibility for heaven.

Whereas, in other cases, the religious rhetorical vision often aims for a distant land in the form of heaven, humanists similarly aim toward utopia which could be considered to be a distant land when framed temporally. In other words, Lewis correctly summarizes the rhetorical strategies of his contemporaries. If he is correct in regards to sehnsucht, the humanist vision acts as a parody mimicking the “fatherland” from which satisfaction could be fully obtained and experienced. Nevertheless, the motive of such a phenomenon is not fully removed and thus eligible to be coopted and used rhetorically to persuade others as is done in the AHAs manifestoes.

Manifesto-ing: Sharing Visions of a New World

Due to Bormann’s theory of rhetorical visions and its perceptibility in greater elucidating the American humanist movement, in what follows I will focus my analysis through such lens by analyzing the scene, roles prescribed for antagonists and protagonists, and the futuristic community.

The Scene: Kairotic Crisis and an Impending Future

The growth of American Humanism relies heavily on moments of crisis throughout history ranging from the Great Depression to the more recent terrorist attacks of 2001 and the ensuing Iraq War. Nevertheless, the scene is distinctly established

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through the medium of the manifesto, a genre in which descriptions of time periods is essential for success. Just as Bormann (1972) contends that the puritanistic rhetorical vision emerged primarily from interpreting scripture, manifestos hold a similar power in light of discursive formation and the genres primary aim, namely to make manifest a new reality. Following the preface, the Humanist Manifesto I begins with stating a concern for the time: “The time has come for widespread recognition of the radical changes in beliefs throughout the modern world. The time is past for mere revision of traditional attitudes”

(para. 1; emphasis added). In other words, a kairotic moment of crisis is declared resulting in individual judgments by interlocutors to either leave traditional religious beliefs behind, or for all of humanity, to consequentially suffer a catastrophic future. For many, such historical moments can only be imagined as trust and faith in God and government came to a screeching halt as stock markets crashed, beloved leaders were assassinated, or skyscrapers collapsed with thousands remaining inside. Nevertheless,

Lyon (1999) uniquely notes that the manifesto purposely disregards deliberation due to impatience and the possibility of such demands being naturalized in the public sphere.

For interlocutors reading or hearing about this new philosophy, the argument would have held sway in light of the ensuing contexts and the lack of availability to retort. To aid the argumentation in Humanist Manifesto I, further emphasis on time is amplified with a regard for the possible dangers existing if religiosity is not superseded by modern scientific aspirations: “While this age does owe a vast debt to the traditional religions, it is none the less obvious that any religion that can hope to be a synthesizing and dynamic force for today must be shaped for the needs of the age” (para. 3). Such bold statements

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create a one-sided vision to interlocutors without the availability of deliberation adding to its authoritarian rhetoricity.

Again, the scene in the second manifesto, although a different time period, is proven to be of the same type as authors begin by framing the historical context. From these texts, it is obvious that a major aspect of the fantasy theme allowing growth and dissemination of the humanist rhetorical vision centralizes time in an effort to implicate the actions of all interlocutors for better or worse: “Humanity, to survive, requires bold and daring measures. We need to extend the uses of the scientific method, not renounce them, to fuse reason with compassion in order to build constructive social and moral values” (para. 4; emphasis added). Such concern is partnered with the great scientific and technological advances experienced since the publication of the earlier text. Although the contemporary moment is not specifically emphasized in the latest artifact, an importance of the future is forcefully laid on the shoulders of interlocutors: “Humanists long for and strive toward a world of mutual care and concern, free of cruelty and its consequences, where differences are resolved cooperatively without resorting to violence” (para. 8).

Such a responsibility is rhetorically potent as the humanistic vision seeks to tap into and arouse the already ruptured emotions of interlocutors as a means to convert others into the movement through nonviolent revolution absent of debate (Bormann, 1972). “‘The time for argument is past,’ declares the typical manifesto.” (Lyon, 1999, p. 31).

Alongside the emphasis of time, the collection of humanist manifestos inevitably prescribe roles of both antagonists and protagonists thus labeling and defining roles within this new reality.

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The Dramatis Personae

The Antagonists: Traditional Theists

The greatest enemy to humanism and, more significantly, humanity as a collective, is none other than traditional theistic religion and its participants. In fact, this point is why drafters sought to redefine religion first within the confines of Unitarian

Universalism and then later through the philosophy of Humanism: “There is a great danger of a final, and we believe fatal, identification of the word religion with doctrines and methods which have lost their significance and which are powerless to solve the problems of human living in the Twentieth Century” (para. 2). In light of this danger, interlocutors are given the possibility to transcend and thus survive. Such conversion, interestingly enough, entails a stated exchange from religion to reason. The dichotomy alone would have bolstered the identity of fellow humanists; while, at the same time, punctured the identity of religious participants. Lessl (2002) points to the methods utilized in scientistic discourse as a type of Gnosticism often distinguishing between the more evolved brain from that of the old brain, or the “root of evil” (p. 142). By the seventies, many atrocities in the name of religion had been committed thus calling upon leaders to begin such a break. In doing so, many sought refuge in other philosophies like

UUism or other varying philosophies which inevitably became a springboard into the humanist philosophy during the early twentieth century. In essence, the rhetorical situation of such catastrophes led to an envisioning of a new world in which religious or political distinctions no longer existed and thus would lead solely to progress thereby embodying a type of redemption for humanity led by the triumphalism of the “rational spirit” (p. 143). With the growth of technology and scientific development, these

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aspirations and meta-theoretical assumptions thrived from the overshadowing of religious thinking by science’s advancements.

By the second manifesto, the drafters were sure to continually iterate the need for progress and thus a firm pathway on which the rhetorical vision could grow even those held by earlier religious humanists: “We reject all religious, ideological, or moral codes that denigrate the individual, suppress freedom, dull intellect, [and] dehumanize personality” (para. 16). Whereas religion dulled the intellect, scientific progress prospered the mind and thus could help humanity flourish. The identity of antagonists are further diminished by the power of science acting as a foundational motive to conquer the world anew, namely over religion and its past failures. The final manifesto more concretely crystallizes such an assumption: “Humanism is a progressive philosophy of life that, without supernaturalism, affirms our ability and responsibility to lead ethical lives of personal fulfillment that aspire to the greater good of humanity” (preface; emphasis added). The new emerging world requires the abandoning of traditional religion as a whole and thus a new humanity of sorts. This discursive role throughout the collection of manifestoes is one of the more poignant characteristics of the rhetorical vision because it explicitly demonstrates distinctions between the old and new persons of society. The manifesto itself lays claim to the scientistic/gnostic discourse wherein one is unable to question the claim of science thus attempting to forcefully leave behind the old person (i.e. traditional theists) to create a new humanity eligible for redemption and thus survival.

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The Protagonists: The New Rational Humanity

Additionally, the fantasy theme of humanism is enveloped by a new collective of humanists who are the only hope of humanity. By relinquishing religious pursuits, they have come to an epiphanic point wherein a form of enlightenment through scientific knowledge and progress has occurred. Even the American Humanist Association acronym AHA demonstrates the value of this point. The affirmations of each manifesto acquiesce the humanist identity placing it to the fore. Uniquely, such an identity is grounded in scientific discourse: “Religious humanists regard the universe as self- existing and not created” (para. 4). In other words, the only way to view and interpret nature as a humanist is through the lens of science rather than religion. The scientistic lens and language continues thereby developing a method of interpretation toward nature for interlocutors so that they too are able to share in the vision: “Humanism asserts that the nature of the universe depicted by modern science makes unacceptable any supernatural or cosmic guarantees of human values” (para. 8). … “We are convinced that the time has passed for theism, deism, modernism, and the several varieties of ‘new thought’” (para. 9). The optimism of Humanist Manifesto II further connotes the optimism of humanists to progress beyond the point of crisis and detrimental atrocities committed in the past by offering proof that science is the ultimate answer:

We have virtually conquered the planet, explored the moon, overcome the natural

limits of travel and communication; we stand at the dawn of a new age, ready to

move farther into space and perhaps inhabit other planets. Using technology

wisely, we can control our environment, conquer poverty, markedly reduce

disease, extend our life-span, significantly modify our behavior, alter the course 142

of human evolution and cultural development, unlock vast new powers, and

provide humankind with unparalleled opportunity for achieving an abundant and

meaningful life. (para. 1)

Additionally, the humanist persona is clarified as political aspects of the time are discussed in affirmations. For instance in the sixth affirmation, sexuality is discussed as a means of drawing a line in the sand in regards to the external happenings of the moment during the sexual revolution: “In the area of sexuality, we believe that intolerant attitudes, often cultivated by orthodox religions and puritanical cultures, unduly repress sexual conduct” (para. 17). Even the topic of euthanasia is explicitly discussed in the seventh affirmation, a dividing topic among political participants of the era. Yet, one is left to question how science is eligible to be the defining voice in these contentious areas of debate. Interestingly, such affirmations rigidly choose political sides despite the later argumentation against dividing antagonisms. “[W]e reject separations which promote alienation and set people and groups against each other” (para. 24). However, the manifesto’s explicit mono-discursive genre leads interlocutors to possibly contend no other position is valid due to the perceived embodying of reason by proponents.

In essence, the humanistic vision underscores an identity that many religious, or irreligious could follow wherein universal education is important, separation of church and state is applauded because it holds authoritarian religion at bay, and economic institutions that eschew some citizens over others is called into question. The affirmations of the manifesto allow for these distinctions between protagonist and antagonist to be distinctly drawn and thus enable the humanist persona to emerge as the means of

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transcendence from all that has failed in the past. The potency of this persona is uniquely rhetorical given the moments of publication for each manifesto wherein many questioned identity and future progress. Therefore, the vivid description of the humanist persona attempts to persuade and convert during the failures of traditional institutions and the ensuing ruptured identities taking place thereby hailing interlocutors to join in the new movement through the spirit of rationalism and its perceived possession of progress. The enumerated signatures at the end of the manifestoes signified such a persona was already embodied in a collective thus adding to its ethos and overall influence. From this perspective, the affirmations within the manifesto aid in the creation of this collective ethos through the discursive formulation and, therefore, reveal a new emerging humanity of which others can already begin to participate and transcend. Without said signatures, interlocutors would be left to believe the collective is solely futuristic rather than already in transition.

The Futuristic Vision

The overarching purpose of these manifestoes is setting forth the humanistic vision of a new world as an ultimate means to share and thus convert (Bormann, 1972).

Such a point is clearly made in the initial manifesto and remained over time to be a strong foundational aspect of each document. For instance, a new world is proclaimed to be a necessity in relation to the humanist persona:

The humanists are firmly convinced that existing acquisitive and profit-motivated

society has shown itself to be inadequate and that a radical change in methods,

controls, and motives must be instituted. … The goal of humanism is a free and

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universal society in which people voluntarily and intelligently cooperate for the

common good. Humanists demand a shared life in a shared world. (para. 17)

At its core, the manifesto allows for the generation of this new possibility through the collective persona of humanism as a whole. In Humanist Manifesto II, a whole section is devoted to said world community with more particulars as to what such a world would constitute. For example, the drafters contend that, “We have reached a turning point in human history where the best option is to transcend the limits of national sovereignty and to move toward the building of a world community in which all sectors of the human family can participate” (para. 26). This explicit vision continues by describing the futility of war, and the necessary changes needed in utilizing technology, ecology, and economic development for all of humanity. Using synecdoche, the futuristic world vision smoothly transitions into affirmations regarding humanity as a whole. By doing so, the rhetorical potency of time is brought back into the foreground thereby connecting the necessity of such changes (i.e. the humanistic philosophy) by the individual that will consequentially affect the whole. “The world cannot wait for a reconciliation of competing political or economic systems to solve its problems. These are the times for men and women of goodwill to further the building of a peaceful and prosperous world” (para. 32). In other words, the interlocutor is a part of the ensuing change for better or worse. The choice in the moment dictates whether or not the reader is on the correct side of this revolutionary movement, or a part of the status quo inevitably leading to the detriment of humanity away from progress.

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Uniquely, transcendence is the major call of the final section in Humanist

Manifesto II: “We urge that parochial loyalties and inflexible moral and religious ideologies be transcended” (para. 32; emphasis added). Such rhetoric distinguishes that humanity needs a new type of person not embodied in any persona prior to said movement, or as Lessl (2002) argues a new arête brought on by rationalism which transcends the dulled intellect of the old mankind. However, such persona is then amplified through a scientistic lens thereby adding to its all-encompassing nature: “We further urge the use of reason and compassion to produce the kind of world we want.”

(para. 32; emphasis added). In other words, the new world is a rational world and particular to that of the humanist distinctly demonstrating that the ends to which a movement longs inevitably affects the motivations of participants in the contemporary moment. However, to be a part of the new world, the act of transcendence must take place, namely a conversion of sorts to the humanist philosophy. “We will survive and prosper only in a world of shared humane values. We can initiate new directions for humankind; ancient rivalries can be superseded by broad-based cooperative efforts”

(para. 32). At a meta level, one can see the humanist movement employing the priestly rhetoric of scientism as a means to triumph over rigid religious ideologies; nevertheless, the more important aspect is that the voice wholly consumes the humanist persona thus making it more rhetorically compelling as it subsumes a similar priestly role. Through these texts, a call to rights is issued to traditional religion as well as sectarian governments often led by religious proponents: “The true revolution is occurring and can continue in countless nonviolent adjustments” (para. 32). Such a point parallels to

Griffin’s (1984) position on movements wherein he maintains their interests are twofold:

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dominance and salvific. The scientistic lens adds to the overall ethos of the humanist persona and the overarching envisioning of a world community that animates participation ultimately through a teleological motive: “Thus engaged in the flow of life, we aspire to this vision with the informed conviction that humanity has the ability to progress toward its highest ideals. The responsibility for our lives and the kind of world in which we live is ours and ours alone” (para. 11). However, the impending nature of the new world is an important point of the rhetoric because it is qualified again by the necessity of participation.

Although the Utopia of humanism is an impossibility in itself, this is beside the point. The vision of such a world community and its rhetoricity is central to the rational spirit of humanism. It appeals even today to those disheartened by the progress of society in areas that explicitly lack compassion for others. Therefore, the glory of the vision and its revelatory function adds sustenance to participants and interlocutors as the manifestoes (i.e. the rhetorical vision) are read and shared. Such a point may also explain the living nature of these texts as they are continually updated from time to time as a means to re-centralize again, and again the most rhetorical aspect of the movement, namely a different world.

Implications and Conclusions

Through the American Humanist manifestoes, rhetoricians are invited to hear the rhetoric of science within the confines of the twentieth and twenty-first century. The use of manifestoes uniquely allowed early Unitarian Universalists, scientific thinkers, and others disenchanted with a religious society to be heard and constitute powerfully the

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humanist persona and a new world to which they could aspire. However, their discourse also helps researchers to develop a greater understanding of scientistic discourse in light of the means to which religious participants were defined. In lieu of reason, to aspire to the new world community and thus aid in the survival of humanity as a whole, interlocutors were challenged to leave behind mystic beliefs that dulled the intellect and could not be verified by the scientific method. From this, a major theme emerged along the lines of the old and new humanity which were embodied either by antagonists, or protagonists. In light of this point, the transcendence of others to humanism was a necessity for humanity to progress. Uniquely, the manifestos authoritative genre empowered the scientistic discourse of humanism because it undergirded the meta theoretical assumptions of rationalism in a form often utilized to prohibit questions

(Lessl, 2002). More significantly, use of kairos, or time, is centralized as the collection of manifestoes were shared during ensuing moments of identity crisis in America. The culmination of these varying rhetorical situations results in a rhetorically powerful combination offering a new world vision to those disenchanted by such times of social confusion.

Although much work has been put forth regarding the rhetoric of science, the movement of American Humanism is all but missing despite their long and intricate history. Just as Lewis argued in 1941 regarding the strategy of his opponents concerning the aim of religious longing, it seems that the American Humanist Association, in many ways, centralizes their purpose and motives in a different world not unlike religious participants. Therefore, at its core, the rhetorical sway of this movement is nothing more than a rhetorical shift in trajectory of Lewis’s sehnsucht. Although one could say 148

humanism’s Northerness is altogether different, it is all the more interesting that secular and religious participants may share in a similar search for that other topos, or utopos. To reiterate a point from earlier regarding the effect of this rhetorical vision and its relatedness of Lewis’s sehnsucht, Schulz (1989) clarifies the interconnected nature between these supposedly opposing viewpoints: “Not a single one of us has ever experienced a true world community. Globalism requires that we imagine one—not just think about it, but allow its implications and its flavors, its meaning and its marvel to course over us” (p. 345). Not unlike the goal of John’s revelation in the New Testament, revelatory visions of a futuristic topos rhetorically transcend participants in the moment.

In other words, the telos, in this case the futuristic world community of humanism, transforms interlocutors as they imagine its possibility and long for its manifestation.

Apocalyptic visions have often been ridiculed due to their overt religiosity and binary metanarratives. However, the above analysis denotes an importance connected to discourse, texts, and rhetoric as new worlds are envisioned in the genre of manifestoes, a political and secular document. The AHA manifestoes reveal a rhetorical occurrence consisting of all three of these facets. Even despite the neglect of rhetorical scholars with research into manifestoes, there is much to be gained from the Humanist movement and their rhetorical strategies to implement a new reality. Uniquely, American Humanism represents a rationalistic and anti-religious movement. However, the overarching nuance to their rhetoric aims toward a new world community which is itself a religious rhetorical strategy similarly discussed by Lessl. In their manifestoes, the old world must be transcended by a relinquishing of traditional religious and political ideals which is itself apocalyptic in the sense that it seeks to be revelatory. As proponents indicated earlier, by 149

revealing an appointed end, transformation and thus aspects of transcendence occur. Yet, the distance between the protagonists and antagonists are not so different. Why did early humanists initially rely on religious overtones despite relinquishing religiosity? More importantly, why do secular humanists share a similar vision to that of religious participants? One might conclude that Lewis was correct in ascribing his opponents’ strategy to a type of harnessing of the interlocutors’ innate longing. In the AHA manifesto rhetoric, one views a similar strategy and alongside it, the questionable strain of such a world: “Here, then, is the desire, still wandering and uncertain of its object and still largely unable to see that object in the direction where it really lies” (para. 7).

Rhetorically speaking, the secular humanist and the religious participant’s paths are motivated by a similar desire and thus looking for similar places. Or, as Betz (1985) declares: “When human beings cease to dream, they may also cease to be fully human”

(p. 34). More research is needed to greater understand this aspect of rhetoric and transcendence.

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CHAPTER V – CONCLUSION

Summary

Is there any hope for the rhetorical discourse of Christianity within the twenty- first century? Or do the current trends of religious disenchantment demonstrate a boiling point following recent decades? As stated earlier, Wilder (1976) desired a shift in the discourse toward a theopoetic that would allow depth to once again call out to depth to counter the loss of mystery and awe within Christian discourse and practice. One such figure who embodied this shift was none other than C. S. Lewis especially in his encounter with sehnsucht, or the inconsolable secret, which led him to long for that which was beyond himself, namely God. As a result of these experiences in The Weight of

Glory, Lewis posited that, “If a transtemporal, transfinite good is our real destiny, then any other good on which our desire fixes must be in some degree fallacious, must bear at best only a symbolical relation to what will truly satisfy” (4). In other words, desires are illusory if left to themselves rather than inflaming a longing for consummation elsewhere—“a far-off country” (para 4). As discussed in Chapter 2, in this same sermon

Lewis sought to invoke this longing and thus inflame a desire for consummation to a distant topos, namely heaven. Nevertheless, Lewis saw attempts by many of his contemporaries to stifle this transcendent longing using various rhetorical strategies thereby changing its trajectory to the material world. Therefore, by engaging with this concept and seeking its underpinnings, rhetorical scholars stand to gain much from utilizing the lens of such a concept in connection to religious rhetoric as well as the rhetoric of science.

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In this dissertation, I have sought to discover the nature of sehnsucht and uses of language to incite it as a means of exploration for current appeals and misappropriations of rhetorical transcendence today which has resulted in a more comprehensive view of this concept for the field of rhetorical studies. To do so, the method of rhetorical criticism was employed to illustrate the rhetorical logic inherent in each artifact as well as a means to demonstrate the implications and strategies used relating to sehnsucht in various contexts.

The analyses of this research project were organized sequentially. First, I analyzed Lewis’s sermon as a means to set out a paradigmatic understanding of the rhetorical concept in its original discussion. Following the explication of this concept, the philosophy of Christian Hedonism was examined due to its metaphysical beliefs in a transcendent Other and an inherent connection to Lewis’s notion of longing within the

Christian faith. In the final case study, the American Humanist Association was examined because of its rejection of the metaphysical and thus traditional theistic beliefs as well as its centralization of a futuristic world community.

In what follows, I discuss the findings of each case study thereby broadening the rhetorical perspective of longing for rhetorical scholars in an effort to engage with future research toward transcendence centralizing such facets.

C. S. Lewis and The Weight of Glory: Longing for a Far-Off Country

In my initial analysis of Lewis’s sermon, I discovered the unique rhetorical strategy of mythopoeia to stoke the inner longing of interlocutors toward the Christian

God. From a Lewisonian perspective, the employment of mythopoeia by a rhetor is a

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summons to enter into and experience the myth-world being constructed, which finds summation and fulfillment in the Christian mythos. The thematic analysis revealed various rhetorical phenomena underlying Lewis’s sermon wherein he sets the gaze of interlocutors toward a heavenly topos—the morning star—in order to stoke the innate longing for elsewhere. Through this higher mode of myth-making in sermonic form, I concluded that mythopoeic rhetoric conjures a longing for otherworldliness that challenges the way one views the world, ultimately creating a deeper meaning of reality.

As a result, I determined that rhetorical scholars should begin endeavoring to see the myth-making process in religious communication anew due to its rhetorical potency, thereby pushing back against criticisms of myth as mere illusions by critical theorists in recent decades.

More significantly, a paradigmatic understanding was gained of Lewis’s sehnsucht, or the inconsolable secret, demonstrating that such a phenomena could be stoked, or stifled, depending on the rhetorical strategy. The nuance to Lewis’s strategy and centralization of longing was unique and extends rhetorical research by challenging critics to analyze various contexts in lieu of longing in relation to the process of rhetorical transcendence—“the activity itself in consummation” (2). Therefore, I sought these categories in two particular case studies—Christian Hedonism and American

Humanism—which differ drastically in terms of presuppositions, worldview, and discourse in an effort to uncover differing rhetorical strategies relating to longing, thus thickening the concept for future research intro transcendence.

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Christian Hedonism: The Immanent Substance of Joy

In Chapter 3, the philosophy of Christian Hedonism was analyzed through the seminal text written by John Piper (2011) entitled Desiring God: Meditations of a

Christian Hedonist to better understand rhetorical employments of longing within a contemporary religious setting, namely conservative evangelicalism. Interestingly, throughout this work Piper demonstrates a direct connection to C. S. Lewis and the conceptual framework of sehnsucht. At the same time, he extends the concept to contemporary evangelicals through other Christian figures like Jonathan Edwards,

Flannery O’Connor, and St. Augustine. Utilizing Betz’s (1985) theoretical lens of immanence and transcendence, the artifact was illuminated demonstrating a desire to transcend the contemporary bounds of evangelicalism through the sacred substance of joy. Piper’s rhetoric was unique for his time because he was challenging Kantian philosophy, an ethic handed down from the enlightenment period, because of its prohibition of desires in relation to moral duty. By challenging Kant’s rejection of emotions and, more specifically, joy, he sought to awaken interlocutors to a transcendent process eligible to surpass the hierarchical psychosis which he found to be the case in the current metaphysical dialectic of conservative evangelicalism. The rhetorical analysis revealed use of the sacred substance of joy and thus immanence as a means of sustenance for that continued search for the distant Other because of its initiation of consubstantiality with the Ultimate in the here-and-now. This reconfiguration in the process of transcendence calls for a more holistic view of humanity wherein both logic and the emotions are esteemed rather than one neglected over the other. In light of this, Piper awakens the dialectical tensions of humanity and God by contending that God himself

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aims at the delight of creation, thus creating a new god-term for the philosophy challenging mere cultural belief. Elsewhere, perspectives of incongruity emerged as a major rhetorical feature in multiple ways adding a unique rhetoricality to the overall logic. Firstly, the Ultimate futuristic vision summoned an incongruity of time, thus allowing for the futuristic-then to be obtained in the here-and-now through repeated experiences of joy and delight. Secondly, the notion of suffering shifts and takes an incongruous form by becoming synonymous with joy. This incongruity was most evident in the act of Christian missions and martyrdom. In relation to longing, such variables bring into view the centrality of religious discourse and the search for the metaphysical

Other and the need to overcome negation. Perhaps, more significant is the relationship of longing (i.e. sehnsucht) to dialectic and rhetoric and the realization that some philosophical frameworks are without a facet of immanence thus undercutting the process of transcendence as a whole, especially within metaphysical dialectics.

This analysis particularly uncovered a strategy within evangelical rhetoric employing sehnsucht through the rhetorical concept of immanence. Just as Lewis sought to stoke and thus uncover a sense of exile within interlocutors toward a “far off country,”

Piper sought to unveil the vitality of a sacred substance—joy—through divine immanence, thus offering a manifestation of consubstantiality with the divine in the here- and-now and, therefore, encouragement for one’s continued journey of transcendence.

The incitement of this sacred substance within the evangelical framework is totalizing and encourages participants to view reality through the lens of the Ultimate vision even to the extent that death is seen as delightful if utilized to bring about such a telos. Therefore,

Christian Hedonism centralizes longing as a powerful rhetorical motive that alters the 155

dialectic tensions of what-is in relation to the what-is-to-be: “[T]he longing to behold is inseparable from the longing to be” (Piper, 2011, p. 139).

Let There Be Humanism: The Spoken Vision

Third and finally, I analyzed the three manifestoes of the American Humanist

Association. To do so, I employed Bormann’s (1972) theory of rhetorical visions to help illuminate the rhetorical logic of this historical organization’s primary artifacts. Through this lens, I discovered the overarching rhetorical vision of a futuristic world community.

More significant is the organization’s sharing of the vision via the manifestoes multiple times throughout the twentieth century. Overall, there are many facets that combine to create the overall rhetorical vision. First, the dramatis personae, or the portrayal and roles of both the antagonists and protagonists, revealed an overarching vision and desire to transcend into a new humanity through the light of rationalism. Whereas antagonists were seen as traditional theists depriving the world of logic and progress, the protagonists (i.e. humanists) were those who could transcend the old world by use of empiricism and science. Such portrayals laid bare the necessity to persuade others as a means to progress beyond the dulled intellect of the old world and, more significantly, aid in survival and progress. Secondly, the utilization of manifestoes, a genre that seeks to make manifest a new reality through discursive constitution, allowed for the meta-theoretical assumptions of rationalism to be reinforced through what Lessl (2002) calls “scientistic discourse” as well as a form of “priestly rhetoric” because of its mono-discursive form and use of synecdoche. Lastly, the publication of each manifesto during national crises demonstrated an importance of kairos as a means to issue a rhetorical challenge to interlocutors thus demanding participation. The living nature of these texts—a progressing compilation of 156

manifestoes—only helps to reinforce the rhetorical vision as texts were shared with each publication intentionally during ensuing moments of identity crisis in America including the Great Depression, the Civil Rights movement, September 11th and the ensuing war in

Iraq. Nevertheless, the rhetorical vision ultimately points to a futuristic topos for those disenchanted by religion and politics as a means to transcend the old world of religiosity in hopes of a new world, or u-topos.

In light of these findings, I concluded that although the AHA adamantly opposes belief in the supernatural and, in fact, views it as the ultimate barrier to progress, the notion of longing is a core aspect of their identity and discourse as they search for that futuristic u-topos envisioned through their own mythos. Originally, Lewis declared that his irreligious opponents incite this same longing but to a different end: “They begin by trying to persuade you that earth can be made into heaven, thus giving a sop to your sense of exile in earth as it is” (5). Distinctively, the changing of trajectory toward the future coopts the longing as a means to utilize it as a potent rhetorical motive. Additionally, it is very important to note that many proponents proclaim the necessity of the imagination as a means in the humanistic endeavor to let the vision of the futuristic community empower and sustain them in the moment, thus uncovering longing within the movement toward said future community as a core rhetorical facet (Schulz, 1989). Such acts demonstrate a harnessing of longing by placing the telos in the future through the vision of a world community—a u-topos—thereby sharing many similarities to religious and apocalyptic rhetoric. As already stated, the manifesto itself seeks to make manifest a new world through discourse. Therefore, the declaration of the humanist manifestoes beginning in

1933 denotes that such a world is already in-transition even as drafters point toward its 157

full consummation in the future. From such a perspective, I conclude that the rhetorical vision of American humanism can and should, in many ways, be placed alongside religious visions because of the discourse’s revelatory function. Such strategies demonstrate a form of impatience in relation to rhetorical transcendence because, despite the impossibility of a future utopia, both the medium chosen (i.e. manifesto) and the utilization of the imagination to long for its consummation uncover a need to make manifest that u-topos in the here-and-now through language: “The future described in the manifesto already exists and is already finished.” (Sinkey, 2009, p. 14). From a

Lewisonian lens, the sense of exile toward the metaphysical topos is stifled in exchange for that of the material world but does not negate the potency of the longing even as the trajectory changes. Or as Kilby (1964) states: “The glory of the Morning Star is somehow not enough glory for us. We want much more, and it is at this point that poetry and mythology come to our aid” (p. 81).

Much was gained by analyzing the function of sehnsucht within the rhetoric of humanism. As already stated, Christian hedonists and secular humanists do not differ as much as is often publicized. Instead, through this dissertation, I have demonstrated that both seek that other topos and thus are being led by and transformed through the rhetorical motive of longing.

Contributions and Implications

The findings throughout this research have broad implications relating to religious rhetoric as well as the rhetoric of science. In what follows, I will discuss the conceptualization of a theory called the rhetorical refugee and multiple variables

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encountered in this dissertation that help to illuminate certain variables inherent in this state of being such as nostalgia and the exilic-sense, and the incongruous shifting of kairos, or time, in relation to rhetorical transcendence thereby revealing forms of simultaneity.

The Rhetorical Refugee

From the research of this dissertation, I am proposing a new rhetorical concept regarding the feelings of displacement and longing for another topos called the rhetorical refugee. It has been demonstrated that feelings of exile and distance are not bound by physical place. Instead, the estrangement seen in the life of Lewis, the philosophy of

Christian Hedonism, and even that of American Humanism denote a unique aspect overlooked by rhetorical scholars especially in relation to rhetorical transcendence wherein feelings of exile and displacement are central. With this in mind, rhetorical scholars have viewed interlocutors as being in-transit and guided by the motive of longing and thus topos—an innovative view of homo transcendens. Therefore, the overarching theoretical consideration of the rhetorical refugee and its relationship to topos extends past rhetorical research of Betz’s (1985) Theology of Hope and Kenneth

Burke’s (1961; 1969) conception of the hierarchical psychosis, and the Negative by constructing a broader framework of rhetorical transcendence in relation to place (i.e. topos) and its influence upon interlocutors to progress toward their final destination through the act of longing (i.e. sehnsucht). It is significant that the contemporary rhetorical discourse of C. S. Lewis, Christian Hedonists and American Humanism all embody facets of displacement and a transcendent search for place—whether metaphysical or materialistic—despite their significant differences. Such rhetorical 159

strategies utilizing displacement and exile from place are a major religious theme signaling the fragmentary nature of existence and a desire to find that far-off country thereby adding to the rhetorical discussions of dialectic (Crusius, 1986). For instance, the patriarch Abraham and his faith are characterized by topos and the exilic journey that ensues throughout generations to follow: “By faith he went to live in the land of promise, as in a foreign land, living in tents… For he was looking forward to the city that has foundations, whose designer and builder is God” (Hebrews 11: 9-10). Wiesel (1996), in fact, adds to this point showing that the nostalgic return from exile overall denotes a type of redemption especially within Judaism. Considering such a frame for transcendence and thus interlocutors, both dialectic and rhetoric hinge on topos and one’s ensuing longing to be there due to feelings of estrangement summoned by the imagination.

Through these similarities, both philosophies set the gaze of interlocutors’ toward a topos despite their differing conceptual schemas of reality, thereby revealing a powerful rhetorical similarity between the opposing viewpoints. For example, Piper (2001) combines the longing for topos with the same longing for consubstantiality with God:

“The kingdom of heaven is the abode of the King. The longing to be there is not the longing for heavenly real estate, but for camaraderie with the King” (p. 70). Likewise, the summary of Humanism’s rhetorical vision is a gaze toward a specified u-topos in the future wherein religiosity is transcended and rationality reigns supreme: “The goal of humanism is a free and universal society in which people voluntarily and intelligently cooperate for the common good. Humanists demand a shared life in a shared world

(“Humanist Manifesto I,” para. 17). In light of the centrality of this motive and its influence upon interlocutors, rhetorical scholars should begin endeavoring to uncover the 160

in-transit nature of interlocutors as their affections are enraptured by a distant place. Such a point concurs with Lewis’s perception of sehnsucht in Surprised by Joy following his declaration of becoming a votary, or a devoted follower of that Desire. Particularly his last metaphor of the text considers his own process of transcendence as a search for a topos even though he had never been there. One can deduce that he feels as if he belongs to this place from his past experiences of sehnsucht and, therefore, senses exile until that place—Jerusalem, the city of God—is found:

[Longing] was only valuable as a pointer to something other and outer. … When

we are lost in the woods the sight of a signpost is a great matter. He who first sees

it cries, ‘Look!’ … But when we have found the road and are passing signposts

every few miles, we shall not stop and stare…though the pillars are of silver and

their lettering of gold. ‘We would be at Jerusalem.’ (p. 130)

Therefore, the realization of exile from that distant place—the rhetorical refugee— continues through the sign of longing wherein we discover our estrangement as well as the path to rhetorical transcendence. Distinctively, both paths are sustained through specific manifestations—rhetorical substances that estrange and inflame longing— which, in a way similar to Lewis, act as signs guiding interlocutors toward their final destination.

Mythos, Phantasia, and the Rhetoric of Possibility

Much of this dissertation has been a depiction of how varying philosophies dream for new worlds. Uniquely, Betz (1985) posited that, “The vision cherished in the heart is an eternal frustration, but more, it is an eternal romance and self-enchantment. When

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human beings cease to dream, they must also cease to be fully human” (p. 34). However, as discussed in Chapter 2, mythos has been completely disconnected from much of rhetorical research despite its centrality in the process of transcendence. Nevertheless, my findings depict a correlation between the nostalgic experiences of interlocutors inflamed through rhetorical discourse to the notion of mythos which is enabled through the utilization of the imagination (i.e. phantasia). More specifically, Lewis’s view of mythopoeia and its ability to summon interlocutors into the world of the myth is very important and underscores much of the research in this dissertation as rhetors challenge interlocutors to dream for a new possibility. Grassi’s (1980) concept of ingenium seems to be a major facet of each context wherein new worlds are posited and thus a form of folly is inherent. Such new possibilities in themselves are a rhetorical challenge to the imagination of interlocutors needing further consideration in the future (Kirkwood,

1992).

In Chapter 2, a question was posed regarding the similar aims for religious philosophies and the utopias of critical theorists when I asked: Is not the guiding rhetorical factor in Critical Studies itself, which posits a future utopia of sorts, a myth? In other words, the goal of Critical Theory, or the notion that all power structures and inequalities be abolished, is not a strategic far cry from the heavenly worlds posited by various religions through the employment of myths. Scholars like Bondor (2010) have researched the impact of the world changing reality exhibited through sacred texts and the process of hermeneutics denoting the possibility of such texts to resignify reality (i.e. mythos). Nevertheless, as shown throughout this research, similar forms of reconfiguration are exhibited through rhetorical discourse whether in religious texts, or 162

secular manifestoes specifically through overarching narrative-based understandings of the world, namely myth. It is at this great junction, namely the intersection of mythos, imagination, and possibility, that rhetorical scholars have completely overlooked.

Discussions of ambient rhetoric, which centralizes one’s situatedness in the world and thus environment, may lend to future discussions of such an important intersection

(Rickert, 2013). However, from this research one is shown the building blocks of transcendence and strategies of overcoming fragmentation. Therefore, rhetorical scholars must begin rethinking the possibilities in relation to myth and the imagination which evidently moves interlocutors forward as new possibilities are envisioned and communicated rhetorically.

A Futuristic Nostalgia: “Home is Where the Heart is”

Whereas Christian Hedonism portrays a heavenly world to be fully experienced in the afterlife, American humanists seek a futuristic material world thereby setting them on a similar but distinct path of transcendence. Therefore, both demonstrate telos as a fundamental motive interconnected to topos. As demonstrated in Lewis’s discussion of sehnsucht, the possibility of longing is caused by feelings of estrangement and alienation of this world in various experiences; while, at the same time, such alienating moments offer hope and comfort of that distant place: “I doubt whether anyone who has tasted it would ever, if both were in his power, exchange it for all the pleasures in the world. (p.

11). As expressed, such moments were fleeting and set him on a path of transcendence:

“And at once I knew (with fatal knowledge) that to ‘have it again' was the supreme and only important object of desire” (p. 41). Carnell (1960) posited such feelings exhibit either extreme alienation or identification with nature as a whole, which also seems to be 163

a major facet from which nostalgia emerges. Although nostalgia has been primarily a facet of the past, the nostalgia exhibited through this research encompasses a home-not- yet-visited unlike the research performed by Dora (2006) and the city of Alexandria. This observation begs the question: how are rhetors able to inflame a nostalgic longing even though interlocutors have never truly visited that destination? As shown through the research, manifestations occurred in each case study whether in ecstatic experiences as in

Lewis’s Northerness, immanent joy, or the rhetorical vision of humanism thus signifying the possession of rhetorical substances from said place: “It was not in them, it only came through them, and what came through them was longing. … For they are not the thing itself; they are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never yet visited” (5). Therefore, a reconfiguration of reality takes places through these varying rhetorical manifestations and mediums allowing a form of consubstantiality to be gained, if only for a short period, inevitably to be followed by alienation. This is evident as Christian hedonists have to continually seek joy and humanists must continually be affected through the rhetorical vision. As a result, a longing to return (i.e. nostalgia) to that destination emerges through this sense of fragmentation—or an exilic-sense—inevitably setting the interlocutor on a specific path of transcendence.

This analysis shows the realization of displacement is an affect obtained through multiple mediums—myths, stories, pictures, memory, nature, rhetorical visions—all engaged by rhetoric and the imagination inevitably pointing to the importance of future research on phantasia and the rhetoric of possibility. However, rhetorically speaking, this exilic-sense acts as a starting point especially in relation to the dialectical polarities 164

wherein one senses alienation from his or her current state like that of a refugee in realizing their disconnect from home. Whereas discussions of the uncanny in past research primarily relates nostalgia to past, material place, and memory (Dora, 2006), this research instead centralizes the sacred site of the person as they themselves feel estranged from the current state of nature. In other words, the current findings display a unique focus toward the future as well as a form of simultaneity experienced as the topos-not- yet-visited overlaps with the present. In this way, the uncanny challenges our materialistic assumptions of place and experience in much of the same way as spectrality. For instance, Christian Hedonists, similarly to Lewis, contend that the longing for elsewhere results in conversion through the numinous. Therefore, rhetors utilize the exilic-sense as a signifier to God and thus a motive to lead interlocutors to search for the metaphysical topos, thereby challenging modernistic assumptions through such pre-modern religious experiences. While, on the other hand, American Humanists exhibit the exilic-sense due to feelings of alienation with existence in light of the rhetorical vision which uncovers the ensuing crises caused by the power of religious ideology hindering the ideal from taking place. As a result of these differences, humanistic rhetors point interlocutors to ensuing crises to awaken the exilic-sense and thus similarly formulate a type of conversion toward rationalism. Redemption and transcendence are then offered through the rhetorical vision of a future world (i.e. topos) thus allowing the possibility for a form of nostalgia to emerge as such a place is longed for via the imagination. Therefore, one can conclude that the declaration through the manifesto genre in seeking to make manifest a new world now reveals again the notion of simultaneity. Therefore, the rhetor’s contention with the exilic-sense is vitally important to the critic because it reveals various strategies of

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dealing with the in-transit nature of interlocutors and the varying means of rhetorical transcendence.

Shifting Kairos through Telos: The Ever-Present Future

To add to the aforementioned notion of simultaneity, the rhetorical aspect of kairos came into view during the process of transcendence following the exilic-sense and the manifestations of rhetorical immanence. Distinctively, the ultimate aim of interlocutors alter identity as well as time. For instance, Christian Hedonists took up the cause of missions in light of the Ultimate vision cast in the revelation of John wherein all nations were represented around God’s throne. As a result of this vision, present identities shift as a means to experience consubstantiality in the present most clearly in the act of missions—a form of consubstantiality interconnecting the then to the now.

Similarly, the AHA rhetoric employs the mono-discursive strategy of the manifesto which inherently presents an incongruous nature of time by attempting to discursively make manifest a new world in the present yet through the vision of a futuristic community. In other words, even though the rhetoric of the manifestoes point to a futuristic world community, the discursive rhetoric itself reconstitutes the present reality thus allowing interlocutor’s ontology to be currently connected to the ultimate end (i.e. telos) rather than remaining completely separated through dialectic. Such a rhetorical strategy signifies the means to make such a topos manifest in the present. Through these findings, one is also able to view the transitory nature of humans in relation to rhetoric, time, and place signifying that humans are always in transition due to this exilic-sense, which causes them to set their desires upon a telos. One’s longing for, therefore, alters their belongingness thus challenging interlocutors to rhetorically shift kairos through 166

telos as a means to make manifest such a place. From this view, rhetorical scholars must begin contending with humanity’s be-longingness, or the relationship between one’s being and the ultimate topos to which he or she longs for as a means to uncover rhetorical strategies to make manifest the futuristic-then in the present-now.

In a chapter called “Longing for Home,” Wiesel (1996) questions the concept of home and the longing inevitably attached to it by refugees when stating,

Longing implies distance. But then, one can stay at home and still feel distanced

from an object, a place, an image, a memory, a human being. Longing implies

estrangement. … Today it is more timely than ever. Isn’t the twentieth century the

age of the expatriate, the refugee, the stateless—and the wanderer? (pp. 18-19)

In connection to Wiesel, numbers of refugees in the twenty-first century have grown exponentially establishing much of the world as those physically longing to return home.

Distinctively, for rhetorical scholars, the current endeavor enveloped in this dissertation points to an aspect underpinning many interlocutors who despite finding themselves physically at home, are alienated and long for a new world. In other words, feelings of exile and estrangement for rhetorical scholars must extend beyond mere physicality by examining individuals themselves as sacred sites (Dora, 2006). As shown throughout this research, a new place is being sought as participants—religious or secular—have tasted, experienced, and seen a different place. Whereas the work of Burke (1961;1969), Betz

(1985), and others in relation to rhetorical transcendence lay a foundation encompassing alienation, identification, and immanence, this work extends such theoretical frameworks to take into account the aspect of topos and the varying attempts at rhetorical

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reconfiguration to transcend the old world into the new through time and place utilizing the imagination.

Future Research

By extending a rhetorical perspective of C. S. Lewis’s sehnsucht in relation to two contemporary philosophies—Christian Hedonism and American Humanism—the in- transit nature of interlocutors has been uncovered. Therefore, future research should begin centralizing the teleological motives of social movements, philosophies and organizations. Many of these same concepts directly correlate to social movement research in which the ultimate aim is a new world, namely a topos. Griffin (1984) once posited that all social movements strive toward salvation, perfection, and a type of dominance; therefore, rhetorical critics could endeavor to establish connections to topoi and their relevance as a central motivating force in progressing movements forward as they long for consummation. Aspects of immanence could additionally help aid critics in illuminating the means of immanent sustenance for movements for their continued progression and the differing strategies to encounter that ultimate place in the here-and- now. Such a notion may be the key difference between those movements that progress from those that digress and ultimately dissipate.

Further research could also consider rhetorical uses of topoi and thus the abetting conceptual framework of the rhetorical refugee in various genres of media and literature.

For example, mythical/fantastic literature and that of science fiction differ primarily in meta-theoretical assumptions. Nevertheless, both aim for distant worlds, thus affecting readers through mythopoeia and the setting of affections upon a topos and consequently a

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possible consummation for elsewhere. Television and media artifacts could be utilized considering they are a more popular medium that explicitly disseminate rhetorical visions and, at times, longing (Brown, 1976). For instance, in the ongoing television series The

Walking Dead, the overall plot is driven by Rick and company’s longing to find an eligible place in which they can find rest and thus remake the world. Such a plot seems to enrapture fans. Yet, as the hope of consummation is almost reached as the story progresses, inevitably the possibility of rest dissipates by the destruction of topos and the ensuing search for rest elsewhere. All in all, if a place of rest were to be found, then inevitably the plot would end. Therefore, future research could centralize uses of sehnsucht and topos in media within pop culture similar to the work of Newman (2010) with the movie Contact.

This dissertation has sought to extend the rhetorical aspects of sehnsucht and its relationship to discourse within contemporary religious and secular philosophies.

Although there is a strong dichotomy between the religious and secular in the twenty-first century, participants of both uniquely aim for similar ends, namely place. Whereas

Christian Hedonists aim for the kingdom of heaven, American Humanists similarly desire a remaking of the world yet through rationalism. Despite differing philosophies and rhetorical strategies, participants of both long for the consummation of such a place and believe that when reached, the process of transcendence will end. Additionally, aspects of simultaneity are experienced in the here-and-now denoting an incongruity of time and possibly a new connection to the uncanny and a futuristic nostalgia within the geographical imagination (Dora, 2006).

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From this research, rhetorical scholars have much to learn about rhetorical transcendence, place, and the primary motive in the process, namely longing. Once again, we find that fairy tales have indicated “the truest index of our real situation” by pointing us to a land across the seas and on the other side of the mountains seemingly out of reach.

Yet, distant echoes can be heard if one listens purposefully. If we could but gain a quick glimpse, our hearts would be enraptured—depth is again calling out to depth.

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